Heaven's Hands
by TwinFlameDiaries
Summary: The carrier of Heaven's Hands is merely sixteen years old. Fragile and scared, Jasmine Sianoor arrives in New York, looking for sanctuary. She meets new people, tackles her fears, and finds herself. All while falling madly, deeply, recklessly in love with a pair of tawny eyes. He's her courage, and she's his backbone. Jace/OC; Malec
1. Chapter 1

Isabelle was surprised, to say the least, when she discovered a curly-headed girl of maybe sixteen or seventeen years old standing at the door of the Institute.

The girl had almond eyes with dark, curling eyelashes. The color of her eyes was a startling amber in the light of dawn, but looking closer, Isabelle saw that they were like Jace's eyes—golden. The girl had a round face and a delicate air about her. She didn't look short at first, but compare to Isabelle's height, she was little.

Dressed in all black, the only three colors that stood out were the cherry red of her lipstick, the golden flecks in her eyes, and the honey color of her skin. It was clear she was ethnic; something Middle-Eastern, Isabelle thought. The girl had dark manes and a narrow mouth, which curved into a smile when she saw Isabelle.

"Hello…" Isabelle said warily. She had her whip curled around her arm.

"Goodmorning," said the stranger. Her voice was raspy, the way Isabelle's was when she had a cold. "I was hoping I could talk to an adult. Maryse Lightwood, preferably."

Isabelle eyed the girl suspiciously. "My mother is not here. She's gone overseas. Who are you?"

"By the looks of it, I'm… I mean, if you're Maryse's daughter, then I'm your cousin."

Only now did Isabelle see the duffel bag in the girl's hand. A strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. There was something… odd about this girl, this girl whom she had never heard of, who was supposedly her cousin.

Isabelle told her to wait at the door as she went to get Hodge, who had been in the library. He dismissed her, telling her he'd handle it. Confused and slightly agitated, she went down to the weapon room, where she knew her brothers would be. Except, only one of them was there. Alec.

"Who was that at the door?" he asked, leaping up from his seat.

"I have no idea." Isabelle made a sound. "Said she's our cousin. She mentioned Mom. I'm not sure what to think."

Alec's eyebrows were knitted together in thought. "I didn't think we had a cousin on Mom's side."

"Well then who is this girl?"

"Did you get her name?"

Isabelle blinked. "No. Hodge is talking to her right now."

"Jasmine Sianoor," a voice said. Isabelle turned her head to see Jace leaning against the wall. He'd slipped into the room without a sound. "So she's here."

"You've met her?" said Alec.

"I talked to her yesterday—on the phone. She called the Institute somewhere around midnight, saying she'd just arrived in New York from Amsterdam, and wished to speak with the Lightwoods," Jace said.

"And you so happened to forget to tell her our parents are in Idris?" Alec asked, raising his eyebrows.

Jace gave him a lopsided smile. "I didn't forget," he said. "I told her to come to the Institute first thing in the morning."

Isabelle frowned. "Why didn't you tell her—"

"I wanted to see who this girl was," said Jace with a shrug.

"Well? Did you?" Isabelle crossed her arms.

Jace's face broke out in a grin. "Not yet. But I plan to."

Jasmine sat in Hodge Starkweather's office—otherwise called the library—her hands in her lap and her back stick straight. She was tense. Nervous. Scared. Hodge leaned forward on his desk, his hands folded. "You're telling me," Hodge started, eyeing the teenager curiously, "that your father does not know you're here."

"No, he doesn't. I Portaled here," said Jasmine.

"On your own?"

"Yes. Well, I… no. I had some help," Jasmine admitted, looking down at her lap.

"Who helped you?"

Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek. "That's confidential information."

"Very well." Hodge tapped the surface of his desk with the tips of his fingers. "But I'm curious to know, what brings you here?"

"I came to deliver a message," she said. "And I don't plan on delivering it to anybody other than Maryse Lightwood."

Hodge was silent for a moment, and then he offered to call Maryse for her.

"No, I don't think that that's—" She cut herself off. "I'd rather tell her in person."

"All right." Hodge sighed. "You said you talked to somebody on the phone last night. Somebody of the Institute."

"Yes. Jace Wayland."

"And you mentioned that you arrived in New York last night?"

Jasmine nodded. "I stayed with a friend. It was late at night, and I didn't think knocking on somebody's door at one a.m. was the appropriate thing to do." She smiled when Hodge did. "So I called first."

"You do know that Institutes offer sanctuary to anyone who requests it, right?" Hodge asked. "You must. You've lived in an Institute your whole life."

"Yes, but I didn't need sanctuary last night. I might need it now," she added as an afterthought.

"How come?"

"I don't plan on going back to Amsterdam for a while," Jasmine said in one breath. "Not until I've talked to Maryse."

Hodge nodded, and suddenly Jasmine liked him a lot better than she had a few minutes before. He stood up. "Well, the Lightwoods won't be back for some time, and I see you've brought a bag with you. I'm guessing you're here to stay." He walked away from his desk, and stopped when he saw that Jasmine wasn't following him. "I'll show you to your room."

Jace was approaching the library from a distance, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His right eyebrow jumped up just a little when he saw Hodge and a smaller girl with wild black hair, dark red lips and a round face emerging from the room. She carried a bag in her hand.

So that was Jasmine.

"Ah, Jace," said Hodge, the girl following him as he walked his way. "This is Jasmine Sianoor from the Amsterdam Institute. You spoke on the phone?"

"Hello," said Jasmine with a smile that was, in Jace's opinion, too shyly sweet to match her style. She wore black combat boots, black skinny jeans and a tight, black top. _She should be as fierce as Isabelle with the way she looks_ , Jace thought. Except this girl didn't carry herself the way Izzy did. She wasn't as bold, or even as loudly aware of her beauty as Isabelle was.

"You sounded older on the phone," said Jace, his eyes half-lidded as he looked down at her.

Jasmine shook his hand, which nearly swallowed up hers in size. "It's nice to meet you," she said. Jace noticed that her voice didn't sound as hushed and mature as it had when she'd been whispering into a phone. Still husky, but less womanly. Like he'd said, she sounded younger now.

"Jasmine will be staying at the Institute for a while," said Hodge, looking between the two.

"At least until the Lightwoods are back," she added, not looking away from Jace's eyes. He found it hard to look away as well. "And then we'll see from there."

"I was just about to walk her to one of the spare rooms—"

"You mean one of the two hundred?" Jace retorted.

"One of the few close to yours, Alec's and Isabelle's," Hodge answered. "How about you take it from here?"

"If you insist," said Jace theatrically. He saw Jasmine's gaze shift away and down to the floor at her feet. Was she nervous to be left alone with him? It wasn't like he could blame her if she was. He was insanely gorgeous—everyone knew it. But this girl wasn't any less stunning. He wondered if this whole shy energy she had about her was an act. "Well, let's get going."

Jasmine looked at Hodge, who smiled encouragingly and said, "If you need anything, or have any questions, I'll be in the library."

"Thanks," said Jasmine, and followed Jace with less hesitation than she'd shown a minute ago.

The two said nothing until they turned the corner, and even now, Jace was the first to speak. "What does Sianoor mean?" he asked. "Is it a Dutch name?"

"It's Persian, actually," Jasmine said, her smile touching her eyes when she looked at him. " _Sia_ means black, and _Noor_ means light."

"Blacklight," said Jace. "Fascinating."

"It means poison." This startled Jace. Blacklight meant poison? Jasmine chuckled, and it sounded genuinely heartfelt. " _Sianoor_ is a kind of drug in Iran. It kills you instantly."

"Lovely." He grinned at her. "Do you speak Farsi?"

"Fluently," said Jasmine proudly. She was warming up to him, Jace noticed. She had a slight to no accent when she spoke English.

"Well, say something in Farsi."

Jasmine thought for a moment. Her eyes glittered when she said these words, " _Vakhti didamet ghalbam vaysat._ "

Jace felt his stomach lurch, a kind of feeling that he didn't usually associate with talking to a girl. He didn't like the feeling at all. "Sounds good to me," he said. "But I guess I wouldn't know if what you just said was gibberish. Speak any other languages?"

"Just Farsi, German and Dutch. Some French. I tried learning Latin and Greek when I was fourteen, but I lost interest."

"Latin's the most important language for a Shadowhunter," Jace said with an air of superiority that made Jasmine look away. They arrived at a long hallway. "Well, pick any room you like. They're all empty, except for that one, that one, that one and those two."

"Who do the last two belong to? Hodge mentioned three people. You, and Isabelle, and Alex," Jasmine said, approaching the fifth door to her right.

"It's Alec, not Alex. And they belong to Max, the youngest Lightwood, and Maryse and Robert—the parents." He looked at the room she'd picked, and fought the urge to smirk. She'd chosen the one next to his. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. If you need anything, just holler." And he was gone.

Jasmine's shoulders dropped, and she turned to enter her room, which was large and neat and cold and looked anything but cosy. Back in Amsterdam, she'd had a room full of personal stuff. A wooden piano that didn't take up too much space, pictures of the few people in her life, books—so many books, covering her shelves, her desk, her bedside table, even a part of her wardrobe. Her wardrobe had been full of clothes and shoes. Oh, her precious shoes… She'd brought most of her makeup and hair products—Lord knows she needed it; her hair was a tangled mess most of the time—but she hadn't had enough space in her bag to bring even a quarter of her clothes and footwear.

She sat down on the creaky bed and tested the mattress, before throwing her bag on top of it and unzipping it. She wondered how long this would be her home. Her father was in Idris, much like the Lightwoods, and as long as her tutor kept her mouth shut, he wouldn't know she was gone. She didn't know what he'd do if he found out she was in New York. Be mad, probably. Throw a fit. Portal there and drag her back home.

She thought about her father, who was a tall, broad man with tan skin like hers, dark brown curly hair, and black eyes that lacked the warmth of her mother's blue ones. His voice was deep and booming when he raised it, even a little bit. She was afraid of him and she loathed him, but mostly he just terrified her. He always had, even when she was a kid.

He'd never let her cry in front of him, he'd never accepted her for who she was. He'd never accepted her friends—girlfriends, boyfriends, it didn't matter. He'd been mad when she'd dated a male Mundane, he'd been angry when she'd dated a male werewolf, and he'd been infuriated when she'd dated a female Shadowhunter. It didn't matter what Jasmine did, it was never right.

She'd never done well in training—not the way Amir had wanted—and he'd shouted at her every day from age ten. She hated shouting now, and she hated the training room. That stupid high rope she had to walk on when she was deathly afraid of heights, the weights she had to lift to get stronger. She hated the running, the climbing—everything. She hated the whole thing.

And Amir hated her for it.

She distinctly remembered one time when her father's friend had come to visit, and he'd wanted her to show the stranger what she'd learned. She had refused to walk the rope, knowing she'd fall and embarrass herself. And during the knife-throwing, she hadn't been able to hit the right spot because Amir's friend had stared at her in a way that made her incredibly nervous.

Amir punished her that night for making him look bad. She'd been twelve then.

Just thinking about it brought tears to Jasmine's eyes. She stopped unpacking and lay down on her side, shoes and all, hugging a few of her clothes to her chest. She didn't want to go back to Amsterdam, no matter how much she loved the city.

Exhaustion washed over her. She closed her eyes, figuring that an hour or two of rest couldn't hurt, and fell asleep.

 **Thank you for reading the first chapter! It was probably a little boring, but it's only an introduction. The next chapter will be much better. It's written and ready to be uploaded! Go and check it out :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Jasmine woke up to black eyes staring down at her. She sat up quickly, making her head colliding with something hard. Isabelle shrieked and jumped back, clutching her forehead. Or at least, that was who she thought was Isabelle. She hadn't really introduced herself, but Hodge had mentioned one girl and her name had been that.

Jasmine was breathing hard. "By the Angel! Are you okay? I'm so sorry." She scrambled to her feet, ignoring her throbbing head, and reached out to touch Isabelle, who huffed and slapped her hand away.

"I'm _fine._ " Isabelle crossed her arms. "I just wanted to—nevermind." She turned to walk out, but stopped herself. "If you're… hungry or something, I made spaghetti." There was no kindness in her voice, but Jasmine appreciated the offer.

"Thank you," Jasmine said.

Isabelle eyed her. "Don't sweat it." She threw her long hair back and walked out with long strides, not waiting for Jasmine to catch up.

The curly-haired girl raised a hand and wiped the corners of her mouth, only to notice she'd been drooling in her sleep. _Attractive_ , she thought. She looked around the bedroom in the hopes of finding some kind of mirror. There was a tall one that hung on the back of the door, but she only saw it when she went to close it.

She looked at her reflection, and snorted. Her red lipstick had made a mark on her cheek: a long stripe that went down to her jaw. Her hair was a little messy, but when wasn't it messy? She smoothed out a couple curls and used the back of her fingers and some makeup remover which she had to pull out of her bag to erase the lipstick from her face.

She pulled up her pants, straightened out her top, and followed in Isabelle's footsteps. Until she reached the end of the hall, that is. She had no idea where to go , so she just went with the logic that every Institute was built the same. It sure looked like the one in Amsterdam.

As it turned out, New York's Institute was _not_ built like her home. Jasmine ended up in the infirmary, and then an office, which was most likely her aunt's, and then she was back at the entrance of the building.

She sighed and leaned against the door, feeling strangely homesick. She'd never been away on her own, and she didn't feel very welcome with these people, even though Hodge and Jace had been nice to her. Well, Jace had been nice enough. A little arrogant, but fine otherwise. The fact that he was hot helped. She smiled a little. It had been a while since she'd seen a boy _that_ good-looking.

"Stop," she groaned, smacking her own forehead hard enough for it to hurt. She had always had a soft spot for beauty, and that had to stop. She'd fallen in love at first sight once, with a Shadowhunter—a girl at that—and she'd gotten her heart so broken it took her a year to stick the pieces back together. She was a little cautious around girls now, because they were heartbreakers. Boys were easier to understand in her opinion. They either wanted one thing from you, or every part. Girls were _way_ complicated.

"Talking to yourself?"

Jasmine turned to look at Jace, who was smiling smugly, eyebrow raised. She crossed her arms. "Like you never talk to yourself," she said defensively. "Everyone does it." When he said nothing, Jasmine sighed. "All right, Cocky. I'm looking for the kitchen. Isabelle said she made pasta."

"I wouldn't touch her food if I were you," Jace warned.

Jasmine gave him a look. "Why? Did she poison it?"

"She might as well have," said Jace with a shrug. "My best advice would be not to eat anything Isabelle makes."

"Oh, stop it." Jasmine rolled her eyes. "It can't be that bad."

But when she was served a plate of Isabelle's creation, she began to wonder if Jace had been right. Isabelle watched her curiously, as if she was waiting for Jasmine to throw down her fork and run for the hills, but she never did.

"It's not… _terrible_ ," she said after swallowing the first bite. It had tasted of everything one could possibly find in a fridge, and had a bitter aftertaste, but Jasmine was very hungry, and she didn't want to upset Isabelle.

The taller girl, upon hearing this, smiled widely, and then quickly wiped the smile off her face and cleared her throat. "Of course it isn't. Why would it be?"

"Because you made it," Jace said with a snort of laughter.

Isabelle cocked an eyebrow and glared dangerously. "What did you just say?"

Jasmine stayed out of it, because she wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel awkward. Both would be appropriate in that situation.

Jace didn't get the chance to answer, because an(other) attractive boy walked into the kitchen, this one looking a whole lot like Isabelle. He stopped when he saw Jasmine. "This is our guest?" he asked.

Jasmine put down her fork and leaped up to shake his hand. "I'm Jasmine," she said.

The dark-haired boy looked her up and down, and hesitantly shook her hand. "Alec Lightwood," he said. His gaze shifted to her plate of spaghetti and looked back at Jasmine. "I see you're still alive after eating Isabelle's pasta."

Jace chuckled. "She hasn't had enough of the stuff for it to be fatal. Give it time."

Isabelle huffed.

"Aw, it's not that bad," said Jasmine.

"See? Justine likes my food."

Jasmine blinked. "It's… My name is Jasmine."

"That's what I said."

Jasmine shrugged and went to take another bite of the spaghetti. This time, the taste was nauseating, and she swallowed the bite with effort. "All right, I think I'm full." Jace laughed, and Alec looked like he was trying to hide a smile. Jasmine hoped these people liked her. Jace seemed like safe territory, but Isabelle and Alec were still cautious around her.

"I'll go order us some Chinese food," Isabelle grumbled, and left the kitchen.

Jasmine pursed her lips. "Well, now I feel guilty."

"Don't," said Jace. "She'll get over it."

"Thanks." Jasmine took her plate, emptied it in the bin and looked around for the dishwasher. Jace pointed it out, and she loaded it with her plate and fork. "I'm gonna go explore." She didn't wait for either of the guys to follow her, but Jace did anyway. Jasmine eyed him curiously. "You realize you're following me around like a sad puppy, right?"

"I just don't want you to get lost again, that's all. It seems like you have no sense of direction, so I'm only lending you a helping hand," he said. "Is that a problem?"

Jasmine blinked in surprise. "Wha—no. No, not at all." She looked away.

Jace led her to some kind of music room , one like she'd always wanted to have at the Amsterdam Institute, but her father had never allowed it. Said it was a waste of space, that he could use it to store more weapons.

"Oh, wow." Jasmine was quick to sit down on the piano bench. She ran her fingertips along the keys and felt herself starting to grin. She giggled like a child at the sight of music sheets in front of her.

Jace looked at her with amusement. "I see you like music."

"I have a small piano in my room, back in Amsterdam," said Jasmine, looking around at the portraits of musicians like Bach and Mozart. "I wouldn't stop bugging my dad about it, and so he got me one for my fourteenth birthday. On one condition."

Jace sat down next to her. "And what was that?"

"That I would only play when he was out. He said the sound gives him a headache." Jasmine's smile faded a little, and her eyes flashed with the memory or her father throwing her music books to the ground and stepping on them because she'd been playing too late at night.

"Funny," Jace said, but there was no humor in his voice. "Your father hated you playing and mine insisted I did."

"You play?" Jasmine's voice was quiet.

"Occasionally," said Jace.

"Your father sounds nice." Jasmine pushed a key. "If he loved music enough to want you to play it."

Jace said nothing.

"Well, play me something," said Jasmine, lifting one of his hands and placing it on the keys. "I want to hear."

When he started playing, Jasmine closed her eyes and dropped her head, the image of a beautiful woman playing in her mind. Black, waist-length hair, pale skin, slender hands playing her piano. It was her mother. Jasmine could still hear the tune she'd played, and with a start, she realized Jace was playing that same song.

She gasped, opened her eyes and said, "Stop. Stop playing. Please."

Jace lifted his hands off the keys. "I didn't think I was that bad—" He cut himself off. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Jasmine choked out, looking down so her hair would cover her face as she wiped the tear on her cheek. "I'm fine." God, she was dramatic.

"Do you want me to play something else?" Jace asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Jasmine shook her head. "No, I… I'm good. I think I'm going to look around some more. I'll holler if I need anything," she said, remembering what Jace had told her when he'd walked her to her room. She got up, gave him a small smile and walked out, digging her nails into her palm. What _was_ that? It hadn't even been a day and she'd already embarrassed herself.

When she reached her room, she threw herself on the bed, next to the folded pile of clothes she'd unpacked earlier. This was the first time in months she'd thought about her mother, after a long time of pushing memories to the back of her mind. She couldn't stand remembering Noella, remembering the way she'd been treated.

Deciding that sitting around in her room would definitely not do her any good, Jasmine wiped her lipstick and slid her stele and two daggers into her belt. Going on a walk always helped clear her mind, and as a Shadowhunter, it was her job to be protected and prepared to fight at any time. Even during a simple walk.

She passed Alec on her way out, but he didn't object, ask where she was going, or even so much as offer her a smile. Did he know they were cousins? Jasmine couldn't tell.

Stepping outside, she realized she had no idea where to go, or how New York actually worked. Amsterdam was simple. You just had to stay out of cyclists' way, make sure you didn't get hit by cars, and remember which bridge and roundabout was which. That way, you never got lost or hurt, unless you got mugged or attacked by a demon, but she was a Shadowhunter. In her father's words, any mugger that goes after a trained Shadowhunter was to be pitied.

Jasmine just wasn't sure if she fell in the category 'trained Shadowhunters'. She'd been trained well enough to handle herself in a fight, of course, but she was far from skilled, and far from brave.

She started down the street, figuring that she'd find her way back eventually. She walked a long time, or what felt like it anyway. She was fascinated by every building, ever corner she turned. She could have used a glamour, but she didn't feel like putting one up, and she didn't think it would be necessary. Her weapons and stele were hidden under the jacket she'd tied around her waist.

She stopped when she spotted a bookstore somewhere more quiet, and greeted the owner inside. He was a tall man with brown hair and glasses. Nerdy and masculine at the same time. He wasn't unattractive, Jasmine had to admit, but he was too old for her. Probably around forty.

She looked around for a long time, just reading the back covers of the books, and felt herself drawn to a book about spirituality. _How to connect to your angels._ Her angels? She looked at the back, and then fllipped through the pages. There was a whole of three-hundred pages about this subject, so the author must have had something useful to say. She decided, _What the heck_ , and reached into her pocket for her wallet. She went up to the desk where the owner stood, checking off some things on some kind of list.

He looked up from where he sat. "This one?" he asked, taking the book from her.

"Yes please," said Jasmine, watching the man's hands as he scanned the book. With a start, Jasmine realized that the man was Marked on his right hand. "Shadowhunter," she said, before she could help herself.

"Excuse me?" the man said.

Jasmine looked up at his eyes. "I'm sorry… I just noticed your rune. You're a Shadowhunter."

The man blinked behind his glasses. "I was. I used to be a Shadowhunter," he said.

"But you're not anymore?" Jasmine asked, before shaking her head. "That's none of my business. I'm sorry."

The man smiled unexpectedly. "I'm Luke." He shook her hand and looked at the back of it. She, too, was Marked. "You're a Sianoor, aren't you?"

Jasmine blinked. "Yes. How can you tell?"

"Your hair is a dead giveaway." He grinned. "I could have been wrong, of course, but you look so much like Darya. When she was your age, I mean."

"Darya is my aunt on my father's side. I mean, she was. I've only heard about her," Jasmine said. Darya had been killed in the Uprising, by a werewolf, supposedly. That's what Amir had always told Jasmine.

Luke's eyes were sad. "She was on the wrong side of a war, like many others."

Jasmine pursed her lips. What was she supposed to say? 'I'm sorry'? 'I know'? 'Yeah, you're telling me'? She exhaled. "How much do I owe you?" She nodded at the book in Luke's hands.

"How about a smile?" Luke handed her the book.

Jasmine blinked. "You can't just give a book away for free."

"Hey, if you promise to stop by more often, I'll give you this one as a freebie. It's a good read. Very uplifting." Luke smiled, and Jasmine did as well.

"Thank you," she said.

Luke winked and she turned to leave. Luke called out to her. "I'd appreciate it," he said, "if you didn't tell anyone a former-Nephilim owns this bookstore."

Jasmine nodded. "If that's what you want." And with that she was out the door. She stood outside the shop for a moment, wondering how to get back to the Institute. She wondered if Luke could tell her. Just when she was about to go back inside, she heard something in the alley. A voice.

"Help!" It was a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream that made the hairs on the back of Jasmine's neck stand up. "Somebody help me!"

Jasmine was quick to drop the book, take out her daggers and run into the alleyway. She saw no-one. Not until she looked behind the dumpster. A woman was slouched against the wall, laughing her head off. Jasmine got a bad feeling.

" _Shadowhunter,_ " the woman hissed, as if it were an insult. Jasmine narrowed her eyes dangerously, even though her heart was pounding nervously.

"Let me guess, you're a shape-shifter?"

The woman suddenly lashed out and cut Jasmine across the cheek with her nails, which were long and razor-like. Jasmine gasped and jumped back, before throwing one of her daggers at the creature. She missed.

"Good try!" the demon laughed, jumping on top of Jasmine, throwing them both to the ground. Jasmine shrieked and turned the both of them over, attempting to reach for the other dagger she'd dropped. She felt a searing pain in her shoulder, and she realized the demon had bitten her.

Jasmine yelped painfully, as she finally closed her hand around the hilt of one of her daggers. She was thrown off the demon. Her back hit the dumpster, and she fell to her knees. She went to cut at the demon's legs, but felt her movements slowing down a lot. Shit, she thought. She'd been stung by the creature. She looked at the wound in her shoulder and saw it oozing a purple substance that stood out even against the black of her shirt.

She took a breath and slashed at the demon's stomach, making it shriek and lash out at her again. She lay on her back, waiting for another hit or sting or cut, but it never came. She closed her eyes, and then, realizing she had to get up and fight, she opened them again. This time, she was looking at blue eyes.

"Luke?" she said. Her voice sounded strange in her own ears, as if she were talking underwater.

"Hold on, you'll be okay," he breathed. "Where's your stele?" He helped her sit up against the wall.

"Belt," Jasmine managed, her vision going black around the edges. "Luke…"

"You're fine, you're fine," he said, taking her steele from her belt.

"I know," said Jasmine with a drowsy smile. "I know… Hey, Luke? Thank you. I'll tell Darya you mentioned her." She giggled. She gasped when she felt the sting of her steele on the skin of her arm. "My shoulder hurts…" Without thinking, Jasmine raised her heavy hand and pressed it against the wound. Her head fell against Luke's chest, and when she felt him speak—though she couldn't understand what he was saying—she looked back at her shoulder, which was now only scarred. Her mind was still foggy, but the wound was gone. Mostly. Maybe she was imagining it.

"Jesus," said Luke, who tore off a piece of Jasmine's sleeve to wipe away the blood and poison on her shoulder, which felt only warm to her. It didn't hurt anymore. The skin just felt feverish, and so did the rest of her. "Where do you live?"

Jasmine didn't answer. She was too exhausted, too sick. Luke scooped her up in his arms and she fell unconscious, the horrible laugh of the demon still ringing in her ears.

 **For the people wondering, Sianoor is pronounced See-aw-nour. There ya go. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Jace, no. Get out, I'll do it."

"Iz, it's not a big deal—"

"Think she'll let you live it down?"

"All right, fine. I'll go."

Jasmine heard a door close, and then felt someone gently pushing up her shirt. She opened her eyes, and Isabelle ducked away. "Jesus, I thought you were going to headbutt me again," she said, and Jasmine swallowed her nausea.

"Where am I?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "I hate it when people ask that. Look around, you're in the infirmary."

Jasmine raised a hand to her head. "How'd I get here?" Her voice was raw. The last thing she remembered was the sting of her stele against her skin, and the horrible pain in her shoulder, which was now completely gone.

"Some werewolf guy dropped you off. Said his name was Luke. He saw you lying in an alley in a pool of your own blood. What the hell happened?" Isabelle asked.

"There was a demon," Jasmine said, remembering. "A shape-shifter. I-I think I killed it, or maybe Luke did. My shoulder—" She cast her eyes downward to look at her wound, which was covered in crusted blood and sticky stuff.

"Yeah, I'd get that cleaned up if I were you. Jace put an _iratze_ on you a moment ago, but he wasn't sure if it would work considering demon poison is strong stuff," said Isabelle. "Here, I got you some pajamas from your room."

"Thank you." Jasmine sat up and took them from her. She looked at the door. "Was he just in here? Jace, I mean."

"Yeah, but I sent him away, because I was going to undress you. You're welcome, by the way. Hodge is getting you—" But Isabelle didn't get to finish her sentence, because Jasmine was already up and looking around for a bucket or a sink. She found a plastic bucket next to her bed, and emptied her stomach into it, feeling sweaty and hot. She kneeled next to the bed. "Ugh." Isabelle crinkled her nose. "That doesn't look too pretty."

Jasmine spit the last of it into the bucket and climbed back in bed. "I don't feel too pretty either," she said.

"Your body is trying to get rid of the poison," said Hodge, who'd appeared at the door. Jasmine noticed the cup he was holding, and took it when he held it out to her. "This will help with your symptoms."

"Thanks. How long was I out for?"

"A couple hours," said Isabelle, unconcerned as she inspected her nails. "Long enough for it to get dark out."

Jasmine drank the substance inside the cup and grimaced. It tasted like licorice and a cinnamon and something else but she couldn't put her finger on it. It was not a good combination.

"I want to take a shower," Jasmine sighed.

"I'd wait an hour or two," Hodge suggested. "With the state you're in right now, you could pass out at any moment."

Jasmine waved him off. "I'll be fine." She went to get up, but Isabelle pushed her down.

"Ugh, just sit down," she said impatiently. "If you faint in the shower, somebody's going to have to drag your naked body out and it's probably going to be me. Don't put me through that."

"Alright, fine." Jasmine leaned against the metal head of the bed and pulled the sheets up to her waist.

"Let me know if you get any worse," Hodge said, and walked out. Isabelle pursed her lips, and looked like she was about to say something, but then decided against it.

"Something the matter?" Jasmine raised her eyebrows.

Isabelle took a sharp breath. "Are we really cousins? Or were you lying before?"

"I wasn't lying," said Jasmine.

"Well, then how come I've never even heard of your existence? I mean, not even Alec has any idea who you are. You just _showed up_. What's with that?" Isabelle looked conflicted.

"I'd never heard about you either. Not from my mom, anyway. Last week, I was looking for family I might have on her side, and I found a book with names. I found my family tree, and saw Maryse's name next to my mother's," Jasmine said, and closed her eyes. _Don't think about her, don't think about her_ , she repeated inside her head.

"Why are you here?" Isabelle asked finally.

Jasmine said nothing. She couldn't bullshit Isabelle by telling her she had a 'message' to deliver, because she didn't. Not really, anyway. She still couldn't believe Hodge had bought her story.

"It's complicated," she said at last. "It's a long story, and I don't want to bother you with it."

"I've got time," Isabelle pressed.

"Mind if we talk later?" Jasmine tried. Isabelle looked agitated, but agreed nonetheless. She got up and walked out, leaving Jasmine by herself.

Not that she minded the space. For once, she didn't hate being alone.

o000o

Jace couldn't sleep that night. He lay in his bed, tossing and turning, and after a while, he sat up, threw the covers back and got up. He didn't mind walking barefoot, not even when the floor was cold like it was then.

He passed the music room, and stood in front of the piano for a while, remembering the tune he'd played earlier, remembering Jasmine's furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes. Why had that song been so painful for her? He thought about the way she'd practically run out of the Institute, and how she'd come back bloody, bruised and unconscious.

Hodge had announced that Jasmine had woken up, but when Jace had gone to check on her, she'd been fast asleep. He suddenly felt very annoyed. He'd only met the girl that morning, and he actually _worried_ for her. It bugged him. Why should he worry about anything Jasmine did? She was another girl, another Shadowhunter. She wasn't anything special.

Jace heard footsteps down the hall, and then a voice: "Jace? Is that you?"

"I'm in here."

Alec appeared. He was dressed in an old t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair a mess. "What are you doing up?" he asked.

Jace shrugged. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I was looking for you. We're going on patrol tomorrow morning," Alec said. "So be ready. And leave _Amsterdam_ out of it."

Jace smirked. "Cute nickname."

"It wasn't meant to be cute. I just wanted to be clear about who I was referring to."

"You could always use her first name," Jace said casually. When Alec said nothing, Jace added, "And I don't think letting Jasmine come along would hurt. She could give us an extra hand."

"She's also another back to cover."

"She's a Shadowhunter. She can handle herself," said Jace.

"You don't know that," Alec said. "Besides, she's still recovering from her fight with that shape-shifter."

"I'll ask her if she feels—"

" _Jace_."

"Fit enough to join first thing in the morning," Jace finished.

"We don't know anything about this girl, and you want to hunt demons with her?" Alec spat incredulously. "Have you lost your mind?"

"You worry too much."

"No, _you_ worry too little."

"I'm going to bed," Jace said. "Goodnight, Alec." He turned and walked out of the room, ignoring Alec's calls for him.

The next morning when Jace went to wake Jasmine, she was already up. She looked much better than she had the night before, and Jace was impressed with the way she'd jbounced back after being bitten by a demon. She'd healed almost as quickly as a Downworlder.

Jasmine was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, cross-legged, dressed in a white, off-shoulder dress with long, flowy sleeves. Her raven hair fell around her shoulders in wild, messy curls, and when she looked up at him, he noticed that her eyes were heavily made up—the opposite of the day before, when she hadn't worn any eye makeup at all.

"An early-bird, I see," Jace said. Jasmine smiled and closed the book in her lap.

"I'm not usually, but I was having a pretty… rough night," she said, and got to her feet. "Nightmares. Might've had to do with the demon poison."

Jace wondered if she'd slept at all, or at least enough. It was seven in the morning, and he wasn't even dressed yet. Jasmine looked like she'd been up a long time.

"Anyway, is there something you wanted to say, or were you just missing me?" Jasmine put the book on her bedside table.

This amused Jace. He breathed out a kind of laugh and said, "Alec, Izzy and I are going out."

"At seven a.m?"

"Hunting business," Jace said simply, and Jasmine nodded, her lips pressed to a line.

"And you want me to come along?"

"Well, no. I'm _asking_ you if you want to come along," Jace corrected.

Jasmine smiled. "I didn't hear the question," she said. Jace gave her a look, and she chuckled. "All right, I'll be down in five minutes. Oh, and is there anything in the kitchen I can eat? Preferably _not_ made by Isabelle. Don't tell her I said that."

"We can stop by at Taki's," Jace said.

Jasmine blinked. "Taki's?"

"It's the greatest restaurant in Manhattan. Downworlder-owned. Don't you have one of those in Amsterdam?"

"We do, actually. I've just never had much interest in eating at a place that serves animal blood," Jasmine said. "And Downworlders don't particularly have much love for Shadowhunters. Not where I come from, anyway. Though I've dated a werewolf before. As you can probably guess, my father's real proud of me."

There was something in Jasmine's voice—a kind of bitterness masked by sarcasm—that he recognized in his own voice when he spoke sometimes. "You can talk to Isabelle about that. She'll date anyone whom Maryse and Robert would disapprove of," Jace said. "Werewolves, fey, vampires. The whole shebang. She'd probably date a girl if she wanted her parents to freak out completely."

"Think I'd have a shot with her?" Jasmine joked. "I mean, if we weren't cousins."

Jace's eyebrows jumped up. "You're a…" He whistled. "It would explain why you haven't tried to get with me—"

Jasmine grinned. "I'm bisexual, Jace. I like guys, too." She shook her head in amusement.

"Well, then I have no idea why you still haven't begged me to take off my clothes."

Jasmine laughed out loud. "You're so…"

"Stunning? Amazing? Intelligent?"

"Conceited," Jasmine finished.

"I'm hurt," Jace said, but he was smiling. "Get ready. We're leaving in minutes from now." He stepped out of the room and was about to enter his own, but heard Isabelle saying his name. He turned to look at her—dressed in fighting gear and ready for action—and saw her raise an eyebrow.

"What's with the grin?" She looked at Jasmine's door and gasped audibly. "Did you sleep—"

"No, I didn't," Jace said, rolling his eyes. "Did you have something to say? I was just about to get ready."

"Yes. I was going to ask you if Jasmine's awake yet. I still have her stele from yesterday," said Isabelle. "The werewolf guy dropped it off."

"She's awake. She's changing."

Isabelle eyed him. "Are you _sure_ you two didn't hook up?"

Jace snorted. "I'm sure." He entered his room, effectively ending the conversation. Isabelle cocked an eyebrow, sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she turned to walk away.

o000o

"Bloody pancakes? No _thank_ you." Jasmine's nose scrunched up as her golden eyes scanned Taki's menu. Alec glared a little over the top of his own menu.

"You don't _have_ to order any of that stuff," he grumbled. "Just look at the human food."

"Here," said Isabelle, flipping Jasmine's menu over.

Jasmine smiled. "Thanks." She was sat next to her in their small booth, sitting opposite Alec, who was next to Jace. She squirmed a little under Alec's gaze. He didn't seem to like her very much, and it bothered her. He'd seemed fine with her presence the day before—a little on his toes, perhaps, but still fine. Now he was glaring daggers at her. "So, where are we going today?"

"Brooklyn," said Jace, not looking at her. He was too busy checking out the waitress—a faerie with all-blue eyes. Jasmine wondered if she was why Jace had called Taki's the greatest restaurant in Manhattan.

"Where?"

Alec snorted. "You've never heard of Brooklyn?" he scoffed.

"I've heard of it." Jasmine couldn't help but cock an indignant eyebrow. "I've just never been there. I've never been in New York, or even other parts of America."

Alec said nothing.

"We're going to check out the area you were at yesterday," Isabelle said.

Jasmine was pleased to hear this."Oh, good. I never got the chance to thank Luke after he helped me get to the Institute," she said. "We'll get a chance to talk to him, right?"

"If you really want to," Jace said, as the waitress made her way over. She was pretty good-looking in Jasmine's opinion. Not really her type—she preferred creatures that looked human—pretty attractive if you were into that sort of thing. Jace was, apparently.

"Ready to order?" the waitress asked, smiling at them.

"I think so," Isabelle said. "I'll have the apricot-plum smoothie with wildflower honey. Jasmine?" She nudged her with her elbow. Jasmine, eyes glued to the menu, ordered a banana-watermelon smoothie with cinnamon, Jace got the usual—whatever that was—and Alec got a coffee with pancakes.

"So how do we get there? To Brooklyn, I mean." Jasmine watched the waitress walk away.

"We're taking the subway," Jace answered.

"Is it really that far away?" Jasmine's eyebrows were furrowed. "I was just fine walking, yesterday."

"We'd be wasting energy," Alec said.

"Fair enough."

Their food arrived, and Jasmine kept quiet as she drank her smoothie. She didn't follow the conversation that went on between Alec, Isabelle and Jace. She felt like an outsider, and had to fight the urge to apologize for coming along. Jace had asked her, hadn't he? Plus she was a Shadowhunter. This was her job as much as it was theirs.

On the way to Brooklyn, Jasmine had to remind herself that they were glamoured and only magical creatures could see them. Though from what she'd heard about New York, nobody would really notice them, anyway. It was a busy, crowded city.

Luke's bookstore was open. Jasmine could see him through the glass of the window, talking to a medium-skinned girl with curly hair.

"Don't be long," Alec said when he, Jace and Isabelle stopped at the door.

"Aren't you coming inside?" Jasmine asked as she turned to look at them.

"We're right here if you need us," said Jace, as if he was saying 'you'll be fine' in the most casual way. Jasmine said nothing and opened the door to the shop. Luke and the girl turned to look at her. Jasmine figured the girl was a Downworlder as well. She couldn't be a Shadowhunter—she didn't have any Marks.

"Jasmine," Luke said, looking surprised to see her.

"I don't think I've ever told you my name," Jasmine said with a smile.

Luke nodded his head in the direction of Alec, Jace and Isabelle. "Your friend did. Yesterday. How are you feeling?"

Jasmine didn't ask which friend. "Alive and well. Thank you," she said. "I don't think I would have made it out without your help."

"You would have," Luke said kindly, nodding at her. He looked between her and the brown-skinned girl, and cleared his throat. "Jasmine, this is Maia Roberts. Maia, this is Jasmine Sianoor."

Jasmine reached out to shake Maia's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Maia said politely.

"Jasmine, I wanted to give you this." Luke reached for something in the drawer on his side of the cash desk. He got out a book with a white cover, and handed it to her. That, and her two daggers, stained with demon ichor.

"Thanks, that was really thoughtful of you." Jasmine was surprised about how nice he was being, that he'd cared enough to pick those things up for her. "I've got to get going now. We're scouting the place for more demons. If you see anything out of the ordinary, you can call the Institute anytime."

Luke smiled. "Got it."

"Goodbye, Luke. Bye, Maia." She turned to leave.

"Bye," Maia answered.

Back outside, Isabelle took the book right out of her hands. "What's this?" she asked curiously, flipping it open. A picture fell out. Jace bent to pick it up, and when he did, Jasmine saw that it was an old photograph—black and white.

She had to look closely to recognize the guy in that picture as Luke. There were three other girls that surrounded him. Jasmine felt her stomach churn when she saw that one of the girls—

"Hey, that looks like you!" Isabelle exclaimed.

She was right. The group of girls were hanging onto a flustered, younger version of Luke. They looked like they were teasing him. They were laughing. One of the girls had dark, wild hair like a lion's manes, eyes shaped like two large almonds, and a round face.

"I think that's my aunt," Jasmine breathed, taking the picture from Jace. "My aunt Darya."

"You look exactly like her," Alec said.

Jasmine smiled. Luke had wanted her to see that picture. He'd wanted her to see what her aunt had looked like—the resemblance between the two. What she couldn't figure out, though, was why.


	4. Chapter 4

"I can't believe that little bastard got away," Jace grumbled, closing the front door of the Institute behind him. Alec, who had been walking in front of him, glared at Jasmine.

"If Amsterdam here hadn't stopped us, he wouldn't have," he spat, and Jasmine flinched.

"It's not her fault," Jace sighed, but he didn't sound too sure.

"Sure it is," Isabelle said. "She believed the thing when he said he knew where Valentine was. Kind of stupid, if you ask me—"

"No one did," Jasmine whispered to herself. Isabelle whipped around and eyed her.

"What did you say?"

"Isabelle," Jasmine started desperately, "I said I was sorry. I just—why would he mention Valentine if he died sixteen years ago?"

"Because he wanted us to spare him, which we—thanks to you—did," said Alec. Jasmine ruffled her hair, which had come out of its high ponytail (the rubber band had snapped, thanks to the thickness of her hair), and shrugged of her gear jacket.

"I feel really bad, but if there is any chance Valentine is alive, then we did the right thing by keeping the demon alive. We had to know for sure," Jasmine defended.

"They found his bones—Valentine's bones—a long time ago," said Jace, not unkindly.

"I know, but what if—"

"But nothing," Isabelle snapped. "We didn't get to kill that damn demon because you're too freaking naïve."

"I'm _sorry_!"

"Good." With that, Alec stormed off. Isabelle looked hesitant, but eventually followed her brother. Jasmine miserably slid down the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest.

Jace stared down at her. "So you're really going to sit here and sulk?"

Jasmine glared. "I'm not sulking," she said. "I'm just frustrated."

"You're sulking." Jace gave her the ghost of a smile and sat down next to her.

"It was _one_ demon," Jasmine said.

"I know, and we'll get him. Or maybe not. But Izzy and Alec will get over it," Jace said. "I promise."

Jasmine felt the nagging need to lay her head on Jace's shoulder and it startled her, because while she did trust people easily, she never felt comfortable enough with them to do _that_. To leave herself vulnerable. It usually took some time to get there, as well, and she'd only do it if the other person did it first.

She quickly got to her feet, picked up her jacket and thanked him, before heading up to her room. She threw herself down on the bed, trying not to think about Jace's side profile, or the fierce look on his face when they'd cornered that demon from before. Whenever she closed her eyes, though, she saw some part of him, whether that'd be his jawline, long eyelashes, or tawny hair. Was he really as perfect as he seemed? He was conceited, sure, but somehow that seemed to add to his perfection. And whenever he looked down at her through half-lidded eyes—

 _Bzzzzzzzzzz_

Jasmine sat up and rummaged through her duffel bag, which she still hadn't completely unpacked, and got out her flip phone. It vibrated in her hand, and Jasmine felt her stomach twist.

She had seventeen missed calls, and all from her father. And now he was calling her again for the eighteenth time. She wondered if he knew she was gone, but she was sure that if she hung up on him, he'd suspect something. Not that seventeen missed calls weren't enough to worry a parent.

When she picked up, she got an earful.

 _"To maloom hast kojai?!"_

 ** _(Translated)_**

Jasmine flinched at her father's booming voice. He probably knew she was gone. "I'm sorry I didn't pick up, I just—I was busy."

 _"Don't give me that, I've been calling you since yesterday_!" Amir hollered into the phone. _"Where the hell have you been?! That damn tutor of yours didn't know either."_

"I was out. With friends. I'm sorry."

 _"Where are you now?"_

Jasmine bit her lip. "At the Institute." She didn't say which Institute. "I'm fine. I'm safe. Don't worry about me."

 _"That's not the point, child. I am not just anyone—I'm your father. I raised you, sacrificed so much for you. When I call, you pick up. Understood?"_ Amir asked. There was no warmth in his voice, not one bit.

"Yes, sir." Jasmine's voice wavered.

 _"Good. I'll talk to you later."_ And he hung up.

Jasmine breathed out, grateful that she'd never lied to her father before. If she had, he wouldn't have believed her when she'd said that she was at the Institute. He'd have called Marielle, her tutor, to check.

She thought about her tutor, who was supposed to teach her about the Shadow World, to train her mentally, but who also kept her company while she trained. She was a nice lady in her sixties with short, white hair and wrinkly skin. Jasmine wasn't training full-time anymore (that ended when she turned fifteen), but her father still wanted her to keep practicing, because he felt that she wasn't good enough to stop completely and focus on killing demons.

Part of that was that Noella Trueblood, Jasmine's late mother, hadn't allowed Amir to start training her before she died. Not intensely anyway. Not the way Amir had wanted to train their daughter.

Jasmine hadn't trained in a while. Maybe three, four days. She was getting a little stiff, despite all of the walking and fighting of the past two days. Maybe the walking and the fighting had made her stiff. Her muscles were sore and she was tired. She didn't like training one bit, but she knew that she needed it. Knew that it kept her healthy.

And so she got up, braided her hair out of her face and went to find the training room, her fingers around the hilt of one of her seraph blades. She found it, in the attic. Jasmine was pleased to find nobody was there, so she could run around freely without having to worry about embarrassing herself. She felt really bad about Alec and Isabelle being mad at her, and the sound of her father's voice still bounced around in her head.

She took her daggers out and aimed them at the dummy in the corner, which had an arrow sticking out of its chest and was generally just beaten up, hitting its face first and then its neck. Jasmine would have been impressed with herself at any other time, but at that moment she just felt worn out. Worn out and sad.

She looked around and saw a thing she didn't know the English name of, holding a bunch of spears. Was it a rack? She shrugged and lifted one spear, weighing it in her hands. It was heavier than the ones she was used to—not that she was very good at throwing those, either.

She looked down at the rune on her right hand, the one that was supposed to help her handle weapons better. It had never done its job right for some reason.

Jasmine took hold of the spear and threw it at the dummy, watching it sink into its leg. At least she'd hit the damn thing. Though that didn't make her happy at all. She sank to the floor, crossing her legs. She put her head in her hands.

"Done already?" a voice said, startling her enough to get a yelp out of her. She spun on her behind, turning to face Jace, leaning against the doorway. He did that a lot, Jasmine thought.

"Did you follow me up here?" she asked.

"I was curious," Jace said.

"Well, there you have it. World's worst Shadowhunter, right here." Jasmine sounded miserable, even to her own ears.

"I wouldn't say that. Stand up for a second." Jace walked over as she got to her feet. "You rely too much on your arms. It's not enough." He took her seraph blade from her belt and made her hold it. He adjusted her elbows, knees and shoulders, and told her to relax her muscles. "It's like you're training for the first time," he said.

"It's the first time I'm training without somebody breathing down my throat."

"Neck." Jace stood back and said, "Keep your eyes on the target. Don't think about failing. It'll come naturally. We don't have runes for nothing."

Jasmine did what he'd told her: she took a breath to relax her muscles, looked at the dummy's chest, and—

"This is embarrassing," she said with a sigh.

"You can't worry about that," Jace said seriously. "Don't. It doesn't matter. Just focus."

Jasmine swallowed. "All right." She ran for the dummy, her sword held next to her torso and not in front of it—her father had taught her that—and penetrated the doll's chest with her blade, her mind on nothing but the task at hand.

"See? You're a natural," Jace said with a grin. Jasmine smiled politely, very aware of the fact that Jace hadn't meant that. He just wanted her to feel better. "Want to do some flips now?"

She looked at the beams in the room, each about twenty feet high. "No way," she said.

"Why not? It's fun."

"I'm afraid of heights," Jasmine said, and knew that it was childish to say and so un-Shadowhunterlike, but she couldn't help it. "I know that I'll get dizzy up there, and I'll fall."

"Not on the ground, you won't. I'll go get us a rope. Be back in five minutes—don't go anywhere," he added when he saw her expression.

o000o

"Come on, Jasmine. Jump," said Jace. He stood at the foot of the beam she was standing on, his hand fisted in his hair. He was patient with her, though. More patient than Amir had ever been with her. Jasmine saw double when she looked down, her stomach twisting and turning. She hated this. She hated all of it.

"You don't _have_ to help me train," she said in an attempt to get out of jumping.

"It's not like I have anything else to do right now, " Jace pointed out. "Jump. Now, Jasmine." There was something in his voice—something like a gentle seriousness—that made her want to try it. She'd done this maybe twice or three times before, but had refused to pursue any kind of training that was even an inch above the floor.

She breathed in sharply, squeezed her eyes shut and jumped. She felt herself falling, and then doing a kind of twist-but-not-really in the air. She lost control and found herself dangling in the air, five feet above Jace's head.

"That wasn't terrible, was it?" he asked, staring up at her.

"No, just bad," Jasmine said, trying not to look down from there. "I'm telling you, I can't do it."

"You just did."

"No, I mean for real. Like _actually_ doing a kick-flip thing I see other Shadowhunters do all the time," Jasmine said. "Help me get down from here."

Jace jumped, grabbed the rope she was attached to, and released her. She gasped, afraid that she'd fall, but Jace caught her between his legs before she could close her eyes. She, shakily, grabbed his booted feet and climbed down. She was only a few inches off the ground when she let go, but she still fell on her butt. Jace jumped down and offered her a hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he helped her up. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine. Just… not a big fan of heights."

"You have to get rid of that fear," Jace said.

"I know, I know," said Jasmine, tucking a couple loose strands of hair behind her ears. "I don't know how, though. Jumping doesn't help. My dad tried to help me get rid of it by pushing me out the highest window with only a rope to hold onto." She laughed at the memory, even though she didn't think it was funny at all. She just thought it was unbelievable how abusive her father actually was.

When Jace didn't look horrified, or even surprised, Jasmine wondered if he'd been brought up the same way. "Well, I'm going to help you get rid of it now."

"How?"

Jace grinned wickedly. "By making it fun."

o000o

Isabelle sat in front of her vanity, gripping the bottom of her chair painfully as Alec's fingers worked on a lock of hair that had gotten caught on the zipper of her gear jacket. "It's not letting go, Iz. Maybe we should just cut it—"

"No, are you insane?" said Isabelle indignantly. They were definitely _not_ cutting her hair. It was her pride and joy.

"Well, it's either that or rip it out of your head," Alec said, tugging hard enough for Isabelle to yelp.

"I should've braided it or something," Isabelle groaned through clenched teeth. "Do you think Jasmine could—" She didn't get to finish her sentence, because a shriek cut across her words. Isabelle turned to look at her brother. "Did you hear that?"

"Of course I heard that," said Alec.

Another scream was heard, and the sound that followed was either a laugh or sobbing, and Isabelle didn't think the person who was screaming was having much fun.

Isabelle and Alec bolted towards the door, Isabelle's head cocked so that her jacket didn't pull at her hair. She cussed inwardly. They followed the sound of the sobbing and reached the attic, where Jace hung from the ceiling, swaying back and forth, his arms tightly wrapped around Jasmine's torso. She looked like a rag doll with her back pressed to Jace's chest and legs flying freely. She was screeching and… laughing. She wasn't crying, she was laughing her head off. She was looking pale though, the color completely gone from her face.

Isabelle looked at Alec, who was glaring at the pair. He left before they could see him.

"What's going on in here?" Isabelle said loudly.

Jasmine bit her lip. "Jace is just… helping me get the _hang_ of this somersault thing."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "You did _not_ just make that pun."

"I didn't mean to," said Jasmine with a sheepish grin. She looked up at Jace, who was grinning as well. "You can let me down now."

"Jump," Jace told her. "I'll lower you and—"

"What? No, I can't—"

"We've just established that you can do more than you think. So jump. Onto the floor mat."

Jasmine pursed her lips, closed her eyes and squealed when Jace loosened his grasp on her. She fell until Jace's knees were where his arms had been. She kicked out both of her legs, and when she was ready to jump, Jace let go of her. She landed perfectly, the way a frog would, in a crouched position.

Jasmine looked up in surprise, and Jace turned his attention to Isabelle.

"What happened to your neck?" he asked.

"My hair—it's stuck," Isabelle said.

Jasmine grimaced. "Ooh, I know the feeling. Here, I'll help you," she said. Isabelle was relieved when she got to straighten her neck again. Jasmine tugged twice, twisted the lock and got most of it free, spare for a few hairs that couldn't be saved.

"Wow, that was quick. It took Alec twenty minutes to get about a tenth out," said Isabelle, rubbing her sore scalp.

Jasmine grinned. "My hair is one big bird's nest. I've had my fair share of… what do you call them?"

"Tangles?" Isabelle tried.

"I was looking for a more clever term," Jasmine said sheepishly. "Anyway, I meant to say that I've gotten good at getting the tangles out."

Isabelle could see why guys would be attracted to Jasmine. Despite the fact that she was obviously pretty, her personality was cute. She was obnoxiously dense sometimes, but she was humble and meant well. She was a nice girl.

Isabelle had never been able to stand delicate-looking girls. The kind with the soft faces, dimples and bright eyes like a child's in a candy store. For some reason, though, she liked Jasmine. Sort of. Maybe it was just her blood talking. They were cousins, after all.

Isabelle turned to Jace, who was still dangling mid-air. She wondered if he was going to get down from there anytime soon, but found that she didn't care enough to ask.

"All right, I'm going to take a shower," she said. Jasmine didn't look like she'd heard her. She was staring at Jace admiringly. Isabelle rolled her eyes. "I take it you two are going to keep practicing flips?"

"For now," said Jace.

"Mhm," Jasmine agreed.

"Have fun," Isabelle said monotonously, strutting out of the training room. Before showering, she decided, she had to find Alec. Make sure he was all right. He probably was, though. Maybe a little annoyed, but it wasn't anything a night's sleep couldn't fix. She hoped.

 **Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think 3**


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Jasmine woke up in a great mood. She felt light and satisfied and happy. She went to look at herself in the mirror, and felt her confidence resurfacing after what felt like a _long_ time. She didn't feel like a disappointment for once. At least, not completely. It was a breath of fresh air.

She dressed into tight, black, stretchy jeans, a black top that covered everything but a thin strip of skin above the waist of her pants, and a pair of black boots. She made a messy high ponytail of her hair that looked like a swirly updo because of her curls, and painted her lips a nude color.

As she hung the rest of the clothes she'd brought to New York, she realized that she was going to have to go shopping for a few more things. She'd only brought two pairs of pants, one skirt, one dress and a couple of tops. She'd filled the rest of the bag with stuff like makeup, weapons and books—and of course, her fighting gear.

She checked herself once more in the mirror, and then went down to the kitchen to get something to eat—she was starving. Jace and Alec were there, mumbling to each other the way that guys did. Their conversation stopped the moment she walked in, so she guessed that whatever the topic had been, it hadn't been meant for her ears.

"Our very own Sleeping Beauty," said Jace. "Do you usually wake up when the sun is about to go down?"

Jasmine furrowed her eyebrows and checked the clock that hung on the wall. It was a quarter to two in the afternoon. "I can't believe I slept in that long," she said with a laugh. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because you're not our responsibility," Alec said.

He was ignored. "There's left-over pizza in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Pizza for breakfast?" Jasmine asked, amused. It wasn't like she'd never eaten left-overs for breakfast; she just hadn't thought other people did.

"I don't think this counts as breakfast," said Jace. "Even if you just woke up."

Jasmine smiled. "Fair enough." She opened the refridgerator door and found the pizza box on the top shelf. Her stomach made a loud sound, and she chuckled in slight embarrassment. She hadn't eaten much the night before—one slice of pizza and a glass of water. It had been late and she hadn't wanted to go to bed with a full stomach. That was one thing Marielle always told her would give her nightmares. Jasmine hated nightmares more than she did being hungry.

"Did you guys sleep well?" she asked, attempting to make small talk. She took a slice of the few still left, and bit into it.

"Fine," Alec grumbled. Jasmine fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was it with this guy? Why did he hate her so much? She chewed, swallowed and put down her pizza slice.

"Really?" she asked. "You seem a little cranky."

Alec narrowed his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that ever since I arrived at the Institute, you've been acting like a bitch on her period," she said. Alec paled, and Jace spluttered a laugh that told her he hadn't been expecting that, much like Jasmine herself. "I'm sure you're a nice guy once I get to know you—"

"I don't _want_ to get to know you," Alec burst out.

Jasmine frowned. "See? There you go again! Why the hell not? We're _cousins_. I was so excited to meet you and your sister when I first came to New Yo—hey, where are you going? Alec!"

He walked out of the kitchen at a fast pace, and Jasmine was about to follow him, but Jace blocked her path.

"That's not a good idea," he said. "Following him, I mean. Maybe talk to him later. Let him cool off first."

Jasmine sighed. "You know him better than I do," she said.

"That, I do," Jace said.

Jasmine picked up her abandoned pizza slice and took another bite. "He hates me," she said around an unflattering mouthful.

"Alec doesn't hate you," Jace protested. "He just doesn't like change. It was the same when I first got here. Except he was eleven then, and I was ten."

"So you think he'll get better?"

"Sure, if you stay here long enough. Give it some time."

"Do you think… maybe he's jealous? That I might be, I don't know, coming between you guys? Ugh, that sounds stupid. Nevermind." Jasmine shook her head and picked up a second pizza slice. "I just thought maybe _he_ felt that way." She remembered the way Jace and Alec had fought like a team the day before, the way Alec was so… clingy. So protective of Jace—of their relationship. Whatever that was. "Jace, is Alec gay?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Jace shrugged. "He's never openly admitted it, so I can't say for sure," he said. "But that's his business."

Jasmine nodded. "Can I ask you something else?"

"If it requires a long answer on my part, I'd rather you ask me later," Jace said. "Hodge wants to see you."

"In the library?"

"Yes. You know where to find it, right?"

"I think so." Jasmine finished eating, closed the now-empty pizza box and threw it in the trash. "We'll talk later."

"Indeed we will," Jace said, and they parted ways.

Jasmine was impressed with herself when she found the library without making any wrong turns on the way. She saw Hodge sitting behind his desk, a bird perched on his shoulder. It was a raven. She'd seen plenty of those back in the Netherlands—they'd been everywhere. Ravens and pigeons both. Jasmine had never liked birds all that much. They creeped her out.

"Jace said you wanted to see me?" Jasmine said, slowly edging towards the desk.

Hodge looked up in a quick motion, as if she'd startled him out of his thoughts. "Yes. I looked for you this morning, but Jace said you were still asleep. Sit down, Jasmine."

"Is something going on?" she asked nervously as she took a seat.

"I spoke with Maryse last night," Hodge said. "She said she would try to cut her stay in Idris short. She wishes to meet with you."

Jasmine smiled. "That's great! Did she say when she'd be back?"

Hodge stroked the bird's wings. "Between one and two weeks. She also said that she'd speak to your father—"

"What? No! She can't do that." Jasmine's eyes were wide. "My father can't know I'm here. Please, you have to understand."

"Jasmine, you are still your father's responsibility," Hodge tried to reason.

"No, I'm not. I-I don't want to be." Jasmine put her head in her hands. "I ran away from home."

"Oh dear." Hodge sighed.

"I know I could have portaled to Idris and let the Clave know about my situation, but my instincts told me I'd be better off in New York," Jasmine said. It was true. Her whole trip to New York was based off a feeling. She'd found out about her mother's side of the family (the Lightwoods), and then she'd dreamed of skyscrapers and city lights. Something had pulled her there. Something, a feeling, she couldn't explain. "I couldn't stay there anymore."

"I had no idea it was this serious," Hodge said, frowning. "And I suppose you don't really have a message to deliver?"

Jasmine looked back up at him, remembering her lie. "I'm sorry. No message."

"I see."

"Is there any way—any _rule_ that could prevent my father from taking me back home?" Jasmine asked.

Hodge shook his head. "Not if he is still in charge of you by law. But if you reported your case to the Clave, maybe they'd be able to do something about it. Although they might want to keep you in Idris. And if Maryse doesn't agree to taking you in, you could be sent to any Institute around the world. Would you be ready for that?"

"I don't know," Jasmine said truthfully. "That's another reason I didn't go to Idris in the first place."

"Think about it," said Hodge. "And let me know as soon as you can. The Clave doesn't trust me very much, but I'd be more than happy to make that call for you."

Jasmine's eyebrows went up. "You would?" she asked, and Hodge smiled and nodded. "Thank you," Jasmine breathed in relief. "You don't know how much I appreciate it."

Hodge's eyes softened. "I have a feeling I do."

o000o

Jace knocked on Jasmine's door, and was slightly surprised when he got no response. He'd expected her to be in her room by now; she'd gone to see Hodge over twenty minutes ago. Jace opened the door and looked around, but didn't see Jasmine anywhere.

He was amused by the mess she'd created in her room. It had been, what, two days and she'd already managed to make it seem like a bomb had exploded in there. She was unorganized, that much he was sure of.

He heard footsteps down the hall, and saw Jasmine approaching at a lazy pace.

"How did your talk with Hodge go?" he asked immediately, upon noticing the look on her face. It was half exhaustion, half something else. Worry, perhaps.

"All right," said Jasmine, brushing past him into her room. "I might be taken off my father's hands by the Clave." She sat down on her bed, sitting back far enough so her feet were dangling off the side like a doll's.

Jace closed the door behind him. "That doesn't sound too positive," he said.

"No, it is," Jasmine said with a nod, watching Jace as he sat down next to her. "It's great. It's the whole reason I'm here."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," said Jace.

"The Lightwoods are the only first-degree family I have left on my mother's side, and I thought maybe Maryse would take me in. She's a Trueblood, like my mother. Truebloods are loyal and family-oriented. I guess I was hoping for the best when I stepped through that portal," Jasmine said, brushing her hair back with her fingers. Her dark eyelashes curled against her brow bone when she looked up at the ceiling, her hands in her lap. She closed her eyes and dropped her head, causing her curls to fall around her face. Jace's fingers longed to tuck her hair behind her ears, to travel down her jawline, grab her chin and—

"Take you in?" Jace asked, breaking away from his thoughts.

Jasmine nodded. "I haven't wanted to live with my father since my mother killed herself." She seemed to flinch at her own words. "I'm sorry I'm laying all this on you. God, I'm a mess."

"My father was killed in front of me when I was ten," Jace said, as if on impulse. He was looking at his feet, his eyes hooded. He'd said it as if it had been on the tip of his tongue. On second thought, maybe it had been. He hadn't spoken those words in years.

Jasmine looked at him with wide, horror-filled eyes. "I… don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Jace told her, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible. He lowered his gaze to her hand, which went from her lap to her side, where Jace's own hand lay flat on the bed, and slowly moved until her pinky was only just touching his. He noticed her fingernails, which had been bitten down to bloody stumps.

"Can I ask you about your mother?" Jasmine's voice was quiet.

"She died when I was born," Jace said.

"God, that's terrible," Jasmine exhaled. "And here I am, feeling sorry for myself."

"People are only as strong as they have to be," Jace said.

Jasmine smiled and, hesitantly, placed her pinky finger on top of his. Jace wondered how long it would take for her to _actually_ grab his hand. "When I was twelve," she started, "my father had a friend over. He said they did business together. He had this really light hair, and he was bigger than me by a lot. We went up to the attic, the three of us.

"My father made me do all kinds of things. He wanted me to show his friend what I'd learned, like a kid showing his friends a new toy. I refused to do half of what he asked me. I wouldn't walk the high rope, I wouldn't throw knives. I was too scared I'd mess up and embarrass myself. When his friend left, he… my father, he lost complete control of himself. I was coughing up blood by the time he was done hitting me."

Jace couldn't bring himself to speak. What did one say when told such a thing? He'd been hit by his father plenty of times, and he'd always thought that it had made him stronger. That it had shaped him into a warrior. Somehow, though, he couldn't imagine a grown man making a warrior out of a little girl. Not by beating her that brutally, anyway. He tried to imagine Jasmine as a twelve-year-old—smaller, a little more fragile—being clobbered around by a man who was supposed to be an adult, and found himself wanting her to stay with them. With him, in New York.

"I can see why you left," he said, fighting to keep his voice as lazy as possible.

Jasmine chuckled unexpectedly, and nodded. "Yeah," was all she said. "I'm not saying he's a monster, because he's not. He is always extra nice to me on my birthdays. Gets me everything I want as long as I do what I'm told."

"Sounds like my father," Jace said. "Except you're using the present tense when you talk about yours."

She finally placed her hand on top of his, and there was something about the way she did it. Something that made him trust her. It was stupid, really. He had never thought he'd trust someone so easily. Then again, he'd never thought girls like Jasmine existed—girls with large, compassionate eyes, genuine smiles and honest dimples. Everything that she was, it showed on her face.

"I don't think I'd have known how twisted my father's upbringing was if my mother hadn't been the exact opposite of him," Jasmine said. "But I think that might have been what killed her."

"What did?" Jace asked.

"Constantly bumping and clashing personalities with the person who is supposed to love you the most." Jasmine's hand was trembling next to his. "After me, of course. I'm—I _was_ her child. I loved her the most. I didn't exactly show it…" She breathed a heavy sigh. "I'd just turned fourteen, and I got into a pretty bad fight with her. It was mostly just me screaming the most horrible things at her. I disrespected, belittled and _humiliated_ her. She kept telling me that I'd better shut up or I'd regret it later. She was right, just… not the in way I'd expected. I thought she meant that she'd _make_ me regret it."

Jasmine pulled her knees up to her chest, the bottom of her boots pressing into the mattress of her unmade bed. Her eyes were shining with tears, and her lips were pressed together. She tried to speak, but immediately closed her mouth, because all that came out was a whimper.

"She meant that you'd blame yourself for her death," Jace finished for her, his blood running cold. "She knew she was going to die."

Jasmine paled. "I heard screaming that night, a-and it wasn't the usual yelling between my parents. My father was beating her, in his office. I don't know what drove him to do it, but it must have been my fault. The next day,"—a shaky breath—,"my father found her limp body in his office. She'd cut her own throat and bled out during the night. She was dead."

Jace felt a slow shiver run down his spine. "You certainly know how to tell a story," he said. His eyes traveled down to their touching hands. He could see the dark veins under Jasmine's pale skin. He felt how cold her fingertips were. "It might seem like a redundant question, but are you all right?" he asked. Jasmine nodded, but the tears falling from her eyes told him otherwise. "You don't have to pretend to be fine. Not right now."

Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut, her grip on Jace's hands tightening. He held on to hers just as tightly.

"Have you ever been to Idris?" Jace asked, seeing no other way of getting Jasmine out of her misery than to distract her. She looked at him in sad surprise, but nodded anyway.

"Once," she said, sniffling as she wiped her tears. "For the funeral. It's beautiful there."

"I grew up there," said Jace. He had to push himself to talk about his past, mostly because he'd taught himself to keep it all inside. He hated talking, or even thinking about it. Jasmine made him want to talk, though. It was only fair, after what she'd told him. "With my father, in the Wayland manor. There isn't a day that I don't miss it."

"I get it. I'd miss it too, if that were my home," Jasmine said. "Are you planning on going back there?"

"Someday," Jace said truthfully.

"I can see it," Jasmine said. "I can see you, in Idris. You're a little older, a little broader. You're happier. Smiling more often."

Jace blinked. "So you're psychic now?" he joked. He didn't believe in psychics. He knew that there were people who could do things, cast spells, to find out about somebody's past and present. Like some warlocks. But the future hadn't happened yet. How could anybody see something that hadn't happened?

"No," Jasmine said. "But I have a big imagination."

Jace grinned. "Albert Einstein said it best: Imagination is everything. It's a preview of life's coming attractions."

"Yeah? You think you'd be happier somewhere else?" Jasmine asked.

"I'm happy here, too," Jace said. "If you have a purpose, you're happy. I've got a purpose."

"You mean killing things keeps you happy?"

"Killing _demons_ makes me happy. Protecting people makes me happy. I find it strange that I have to explain that to you. What keeps you happy, if not that?" Jace asked.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "I mean, I was pretty happy when we were doing flips yesterday." A small smile spread on her face.

"So, flips?" Their gazes were locked, just like when they'd first met.

Jasmine sniffled a laugh, but it was forced. "Yeah, I guess."

"How about we do that more often, then?"

"Sounds good," said Jasmine. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke again. "Can we go out tonight? The four of us. You, me, Isabelle and Alec."

"And do what?"

"Hunt," she said. "I want to make up for what happened yesterday morning. It was really stupid to let that demon go."

"You're still hung up on that?" Jace asked, raising an eyebrow. "I told you—"

"I know what you told me. I just feel like I have to prove myself."

"And you're not afraid you'll embarrass yourself?"

Jasmine shrugged. "I can't worry about that," she said, echoing Jace's words from the day before. "Not while I'm still a Shadowhunter."

"You're making progress," Jace said, a proud smile painted across his lips. "Well said."

Jasmine smiled back at him—a smile that seemed to bring some color back to her face. She reminded him, ironically, of a flower. One he wanted to protect because of its fragile beauty. But as he looked into her eyes, he came to the conclusion that she was the kind of flower whose roots were strong enough to keep her in the ground, even during the worst of hurricanes.

 **ATTENTION: THE REAL PLOT-STORY-THING WILL BEGIN NEXT CHAPTER. STAY TUNED BC THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD I PROMISE YOU. I'M ALREADY PLANNING THE WHOLE THING WITH VALENTINE AND SEBASTIAN. AND YOU KNOW WHat, I love reviews so please leave one down belooOWw the sun is coming up and I haven't had a freaking second of sleep ok**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! I love the long ones, especially ^_^ This chapter was really fun to write. I just have a thing for writing fight scenes idk. Enjoyyy!**

Jasmine had never been to a night club. Not even an all-ages club like Pandemonium. It was a clever name, she had to admit. She was wearing one of Isabelle's dresses, considering her own clothes weren't going to make her blend in with the crowd. Most them were either too casual looking for a club, or too Shadowhunter-like. Not that mundanes would know that, but it wasn't like they were going to see her.

The only people that could see through the glamour were Downworlders, other Shadowhunters and of course, demons. Jace had said that if there was a place they'd find a demon for sure, it would be Pandemonium.

The plan was simple: they, meaning her and Isabelle, would lure the demon in. Make him think they were mundane enough to think they were about to have a three-way or whatever. And then Jace and Alec would pounce on the thing.

Jasmine wasn't too comfortable in Isabelle's dress. It was too tight around her hips and waist, and the fact that it was a vibrant pink did nothing for her olive skin tone. She looked absolutely ridiculous, like one of those bridesmaids in a romantic comedy. Alec had been the first person to bring that to her attention.

The dress covered her arms and chest (wouldn't want the demon to see her runes), but it bared most of her legs. Isabelle had told her it was because her hips were too wide for the dress. She didn't know if she should be hurt by that comment or not, but she guessed that not everybody could be as skinny as Isabelle. She might've been insensitive, but she didn't sugarcoat it.

Jasmine was small in stature, sure, but she was rounded. Like a curvy petite, if that was even a thing. She'd always been just fine with her body, but comparing it to Isabelle's did nothing for her self-esteem.

"Okay, no," she sighed. "I'm not wearing this."

"Oh, come on. You're not going to a fashion show," said Isabelle.

"Easy for you to say, you look gorgeous," Jasmine said, and she heard the bitterness in her own voice.

Isabelle shrugged and tossed her hair. "What can I say? It comes naturally," she said. Jace's snort of laughter followed. The four of them stood in the foyer of the Institute, getting ready to leave. Alec and Jace were dressed in gear, while Isabelle was wearing a white, lacy gown.

"Mhm. And you're sure you didn't _purposely_ throw me your ugliest dress?" Jasmine asked.

Isabelle glared. "My clothes are not ugly," she said.

"No, they aren't," Jasmine said. "But this dress does not look good on me. It's not comfortable either. I can't fight like this! See?" She outstretched her arms and tried to bring them closer together, but the tightness of her sleeves restrained further movement.

"Ugh, _fine_. Come on." Isabelle sighed and motioned for Jasmine to follow her. Once in her room, she threw the other girl two dark red pieces clothing. One was a floor-length skirt, and the other a long-sleeved crop top. It was a set, made of the same firm, velvety material.

Jasmine went into Isabelle's small bathroom and changed into the clothes. These fit her perfectly, and her own black strappy heels looked great in combination. Part of her equilibrium rune was visible under the hem of her top, but she doubted anybody that wasn't a Shadowhunter could make sense of it. No one would know.

Jasmine pulled the bobby pins out of her fancy updo and let her hair down. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Isabelle threw her a thigh sheath for her dagger and stele.

The two went back down to the foyer, where Jace was lazily slouched against the door and Alec was standing with his arms crossed. He was looking rather hateful that day, Jasmine noticed. Even more so than usual.

Jace's eyed Jasmine from head to toe, and then made a lopsided smile. "Much better," he said.

Jasmine felt herself flush. "Think so?" she asked, and Alec sighed irritably.

"Let's _go,_ " he said.

"Got your weapons?" Jace asked her and Isabelle.

They did.

On the way to the subway station, Jasmine could feel somebody staring holes in the back of her head. When she turned around, she saw Alec looking at her. She tried smiling, but he just looked away. Jasmine sighed and turned back around. She was nervous about only carrying one dagger as protection, but she guessed that she was with three other Shadowhunters, who would back her up if necessary.

Pandemonium was, as the name already suggested, a chaos. Downworlders everywhere, unsuspecting mundanes, and of course, Jasmine spotted an armed Eidolon demon diving right into the club. She wasn't sure how she knew it was a demon, but she did. Maybe it was the vibe she got from him. For a moment, his glamour faded and she could see what he actually looked like. Ugly and monster-like. And now she was sure it was a demon.

"Guys," she said. "Over there. It's a shape-shifter. He went inside."

Jace looked at her with what she could only describe as a predator-like grin. "Let's get the son of a bitch."

o000o

Isabelle and Jasmine danced together, like any lesbian couple would. The fact that they were cousins made it a little awkward, because their dancing wasn't exactly age appropriate. Jasmine had never done this before. She'd done _other_ things, but she'd never tried dirty dancing. She wondered if it would be more fun with somebody who actually _wanted_ to dance with her.

Isabelle kept looking off to the side, and Jasmine's eyes were on Jace, who stood a few feet back with Alec. The blonde's expression was a cross between alertness and… something she couldn't quite place. It couldn't be admiration, or lust even... could it? No, of course not. They were on a mission.

"Time for action," Isabelle said to her.

Jasmine nodded and turned to look at the Eidolon demon, who was already making his way over to them. She took Isabelle's hand and led her and the demon to one of the back rooms Isabelle had pointed out to her earlier.

Isabelle opened the door and the three of them stepped inside.

"What are your names?" the demon spoke. The hungry look on his face sent chills down Jasmine's spine. _Be brave_ , she told herself. _You're a Shadowhunter._

"I'm Jasmine, and this is Isabelle." She flashed him a meek smile and leaned into Isabelle's shoulder the way she'd seen shy girls in movies do.

The demon neared them. "I've never seen you here before."

"You're asking us if we come here often?" Isabelle giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. Her Shadowhunter runes were visible under the cuff of her dress, and the demon must have seen them, because he tensed.

"You—"

"Now," said Isabelle before he could finish. Jasmine seized her dagger with a surprising swiftness and threw it, hitting the demon in the shoulder. He staggered back with a cry. Isabelle had her whip in her hand before the demon could comprehend what was happening. She wrapped it around his ankles and yanked. He hit the floor.

Isabelle laughed, but Jasmine was far from amused. She'd never understood how other Shadowhunters got a kick out of killing demons. It was just something they had to do, along with making sure they themselves got out alive. If anything, the adrenaline of the fight made Jasmine tense up.

Jace and Alec soundlessly slipped into the room and stood back until Isabelle gave them the sign.

"He's all yours, boys," Isabelle said.

Jace let out a low laugh—a sound that eased Jasmine's nerves, a sound that told her everything was under control. He and Alec lifted the demon to his feet and threw him against one of the pillars in the room. They bound the demon's wrists with wire.

"So, are there any more with you?" Jace asked as the demon struggled.

"Any more what?"

"Come on now." Jace held up his hands, and his sleeves slipped down, showing the runes on his skin. He was inked all over. "You know what I am."

And he did. " _Shadowhunter_ ," he hissed.

Jasmine couldn't see Jace's face, but she knew he was grinning. "Got you."

Jasmine heard a sound, and then a slight gasp. She snapped her head around, but saw no one. Had she imagined it?

"You still haven't told me if there are any other of your kind with you," said Jace.

The demon spoke gruffly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"He means other demons," Alec said. "You do know what a demon is, don't you?"

"Deeeemooooons," Jace drawled. He drew the word in the air with his forefinger. "Religiously dened as hell's denizens, the servants of Satan, but understood here, for the purposes of the Clave, to be any malevolent spirit whose origin is outside our own home dimension—"

"That's enough Jace," Isabelle interrupted, but Jasmine was chuckling. She had a friend back home who she was sure would describe Jace as a 'sarcastic little shit'. It amused her.

"Isabelle's right," said Alec. "Nobody here needs a lesson in semantics—or demonology."

"Isabelle and Alec think I talk too much," Jace said. "Do you think I talk too much?"

The demon ignored him. "I could give you information," he said. "I know where Valentine is."

"Valentine's in the ground," Jace said.

"The thing's just toying with us. Kill it, Jace." Isabelle sounded sure of herself, but Jasmine had a bad feeling. Here was another demon, mentioning Valentine's name. "It's not going to tell us anything."

Jace raised his knife.

"Valentine is back!" the demon exclaimed, struggling to free his hands. "All the Infernal Worlds know it—I know it—I can tell you where he is—"

"By the Angel, every time we capture one of you bastards, you claim you know where Valentine is. Well, we know where he is too. He's in hell. And you—" Jace turned the knife in his grasp. "You can join him there."

"Jace, wait!" Jasmine gasped. "We keep hearing Valentine's name. I don't think it's a coincidence. Maybe—"

"Don't, Jasmine," Isabelle interjected fiercely. "We're not letting this one get away. Not like last time."

Just when Jace was about to pierce the demon's chest, a young girl stepped out from behind another pillar. "Stop! You can't do this!" She had red, curly hair and a slim figure. No, not just slim. She was tiny. She was too regular-looking to be a pixie, and didn't feel like a Downworlder. She was a mundane.

"What's this?" Alec demanded.

"I thought I heard something," Jasmine said, half to herself.

"A mundie girl," he said, as if thinking out loud. "And she can see us."

"Maybe she's not a mundane," Jasmine half-whispered.

"Of course I can see you," the redhead said, ignoring Jasmine's comment. "I'm not blind, you know."

"Oh, but you are," said Jace. "You just don't know it. You'd better get out of here, if you know what's good for you."

"I'm not going anywhere," the girl said. "If I do, you'll kill him." She pointed at the shape-shifter.

"You're either really brave or really dense," Jasmine said, surprisingly hostile. She worried for the girl, honestly, but the girl bugged her as well. She had a big mouth for her size, and would most likely get herself, or them, in trouble. "Or maybe just insane."

The redhead looked incredulous. " _I'm_ insane? I'm not the one about to kill an innocent boy!"

Jace pointed at the demon, whose eyes were narrowed to slits. "That creature is not innocent, little girl. It may look like a person and talk like a person and maybe even bleed like a person. But it's a monster."

"Jace," Isabelle warned. "That's enough."

"You're crazy," the girl said, backing away. "I've called the police, you know. They'll be here any second."

"She's lying," said Alec. "Jace, do you—"

And suddenly Jace was knocked to the ground. Jasmine gasped and turned to see him and the demon rolling together. The creature was slashing at Jace with his claws, and Jasmine felt panic settle in the pit of her stomach. Isabelle was shrieking.

Breathing harshly, Jasmine tore one of her heels off her foot. She cried out and body-slammed the demon, knocking him off Jace's chest. She felt the creature slashing at her, and it hurt, but she wasn't sure where she was bleeding. She slammed the stiletto heel against the ground, breaking it off the rest of the shoe, revealing the long spike sticking out of the bottom. It was made of electrum, which was poisonous to demons.

Her hands were just steady enough to sink the spike into the demon's chest. Black blood welled up around the wound. Isabelle brought her whip down and yanked the demon off of her. She went to stand up, but instead yelped in pain and rolled onto her side, clutching her bare midriff.

The creature seemed to hiss something between his teeth, but Jasmine's wounded side spoke louder. Tears welled in her eyes and her breathing became painfully shallow. She forced herself to sit up, whatever the pain, and went to grab her stele, but Jace was already there.

He drew his stele and made an iratze on her stomach, right next to the deep cut the shape-shifter had made. It was bleeding pretty badly.

"Smart move," he said, as if to distract her from the wound. "The heel thing, I mean."

"Yeah, you have to lend me those sometime," Isabelle added. Alec, surprisingly gently, took a hold of her arm and hauled her to her feet. The pain in her side had numbed mostly, and the bleeding had stopped, but her top was damaged to the point of almost falling apart. She had to use one hand to keep her bra from showing.

"As long as you know how to get the ichor stains out," said Jasmine, bending to pick up her abandoned shoe, now covered in black demon ichor.

The redhead from before was still there, but she was backing away, wide-eyed. She turned to run, but Isabelle blocked her path. "Stupid little mundie," she hissed. "You could've gotten Jace killed."

"He's crazy," the small girl said, trying to pull her wrist back. Only now, Jasmine realized Isabelle had her in her whip's grip. "You're all crazy. What do you think you are, vigilante killers? The police—"

"The police aren't usually interested unless you can produce a body," said Jace, straightening up. He glanced quickly at Jasmine, and shrugged off his gear jacket. She took it gratefully and zipped it up to her chest. "Demons return to their home dimensions when they die," Jace continued. "In case you were wondering."

"Jace," Alec said. "Be careful."

"She can see us, Alec," he said. "She already knows too much."

"So what do you want me to do with her?" Isabelle asked.

"Let her go," Jace said quietly. Isabelle looked angry, but did as she was told. The redhead rubbed her wrist where Isabelle's whip had been.

"Maybe we should bring her back with us," Alec said. "I bet Hodge would like to talk to her."

"I'm pretty curious about her too," Jasmine said.

"No way are we bringing her to the Institute," said Isabelle. "She's a mundie."

"Or is she?" Jace's voice was quiet. "Have you had dealings with demons, little girl? Walked with warlocks, talked with the Night Children? Have you—"

"My name is not 'little girl,'" Clary interrupted. "And I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't believe in—in demons, or whatever you—"

"Clary?" A skinny boy appeared, with glasses and dark hair. He wasn't unattractive, but not really Jasmine's type either. A bouncer stood behind him, tall and broad. But of course, they couldn't see her, Isabelle, Alec or Jace. Clary turned around. He was standing by the storage room door. "Are you okay?" the boy asked. "Why are you in here by yourself? What happened to the guys—you know, the ones with the knives?"

Alec rolled his eyes, and Jace grinned. Isabelle just stood there, an impatient hand on her hip.

"I thought they went in here," Clary said. "But I guess they didn't. I'm sorry." The bouncer didn't look too happy. "It was a mistake."

Isabelle giggled.

o000o

"I feel sort of bad for her," Jasmine admitted, looking down at her bare feet as she walked on the pavement. Isabelle walked next to her.

"I don't," she said. "She got in our way, and if you hadn't been quick enough, Jace could have been a lot worse off."

This seemed to hurt Jace's ego. "I would have been fine," he protested. "Though I do appreciate the effort, Jasmine." She chuckled, and wondered if any other girl would have been insulted. "Watch out, there's broken glass on the ground."

Jasmine avoided the shattered beer bottle and thanked him.

"You really ought to bring a pair of extra shoes next time," Isabelle said.

"And put them where, in my bra?" Jasmine sassed.

"Sure. Like padding. Your boobs would look so much bigger," Isabelle said, and then the two of them were laughing. Jasmine was happy they were finally getting along like that. She looked over her shoulder to see Alec and Jace exchanging lame looks.

"I'm okay with the size of my boobs, thank you," Jasmine said. "But is anyone carrying an extra pair of socks by any chance? New York was not made for walking barefoot."

"You could always put your shoes back on," Alec suggested, not unkindly.

"No, I threw them away," said Jasmine. "They were all stained and slippery with demon ichor."

Isabelle grimaced. "Gross."

"I could carry you," Jace offered nonchalantly.

Jasmine blinked, but didn't turn to look at him. "You really don't have to," she said.

"Come on, you're not that heavy," Jace argued. "Here, stand still for a second." He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. He went to stand in front of her, and crouched down. "Hop on."

"O-kay…" She hesitantly leaned forward, her arms hooked around his neck. He reached back and placed his hands under her thighs, before lifting her up effortlessly, as if she were as light as a feather. She gasped a little and linked her ankles in front of his torso, burying her face in his shoulder. "Thanks," she breathed, looking back up.

Alec wasn't glaring, just staring with a pained expression. This time, Jasmine was sure of it: Alec was in love with Jace.

 **Poor Alec :'( God I really fricken love his character, especially later on when this whole jealousy thing dies down. Anyway, thanks for reading and please leave a review :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh my God guys, thank you so much for all the lovely reviews. I wasn't expecting that at all xD**

It was three in the morning when Jasmine's father called. She rubbed her eyes, but was still unsuccessful in opening them. She blindly reached for the device on her bedside table and flipped it open.

"Hello?" she said groggily.

 **(Translated)**

 _"Where are you?"_ Amir's voice was oddly calm, and it bothered Jasmine even more. She sat upright, brushed her hair back and stuck the tip of her forefinger between her teeth, starting to chew her nail.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

 _"Don't play stupid,"_ he growled. _"Marielle called. She said that you haven't been home in days. Where the hell are you?"_

Her heart pounded in her throat. She finally managed to open her eyes, but it was too dark to say anything anyway. "I'm… staying with a couple of friends."

 _"Without permission?"_ Amir's voice was uneven with rage. _"I've always taught you—"_

"I don't care what you taught me. Not anymore." Jasmine pulled the blankets up to her chest.

 _"What did you just say?"_

Jasmine's lips trembled. "I'm not coming home."

 _"Don't be an idiot, Jasmine,"_ he said. _"You get to the Institute right this_ second _."_

"I can't. I won't."

 _"DID YOU HEAR ME, JASMINE?!"_

Jasmine shushed him. "You'll wake everybody up!" she whisper-shouted. "Dad, I'm not coming home, all right? You can talk to Maryse Lightwood about this. It's been reported and—"

 _"REPORTED?! AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE GONE THROUGH TO RAISE YOU. WHEN I TELL YOU TO GET HOME, YOU DO EXACTLY THAT!"_

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "If you don't stop yelling, I'll hang up. I'm not kidding."

 _"You just wait, young lady,"_ Amir hissed _. "I'll find out where you are and drag you back home, kicking and screaming if I have to."_

The line went dead, and Jasmine's blood ran cold.

She had to do something. She knew what her father was capable of. He'd beat her to pulp if necessary, but that was not what concerned her the most. She didn't get this far for nothing. She was in New York, halfway across the world from her home, and she was going to stay there, damn it. She got out of bed, still wearing her pajamas, and ran out of her room on bare feet. She had to reach the Clave, ask for extra protection or something. Maybe they'd keep her father in Idris for a little while longer, until this all would be settled.

She'd barely reached the end of the hall when she started crying. She was scared out of her mind. She'd never seen her father as the enemy, as a monster, and now she felt as if she didn't even know him anymore. The thought upset her more than she'd thought it would.

She heard a door creak open behind her, and she turned around to see Alec in pajama pants and a t-shirt, his hair a mess. She swallowed her tears. "Hey, did I wake you up?" she asked, her voice cracking at the end.

"I heard footsteps," he said. "What are you doing?"

"What… what am I doing? I'm… I-I don't… well, you see…" Her words got caught in her throat, and then she was bawling again. Alec tensed at first, but then he reached out and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder.

"Come on," he sighed, gently pulling her into his room. "What's up?" he asked, closing the door behind them. "What's all this about?" He sat down on his bed, and motioned for her to sit next to him. She did.

"I'm sorry," she weeped. "I'm just—I got scared."

"Had a nightmare?" Alec asked.

Jasmine nodded. "Yeah, something like that," she sniffled, lifting a hand to dry her eyes.

"Want to… _talk_ … about it?" he asked uncomfortably.

"No, that's all right." She forced a smile. "Alec, I'm so sorry." She took his hand, which was the size of both of hers combined. "I never meant to intrude. I don't even know if intrude is the right word for it… I don't want to come between you and Jace. I really don't." She sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

"What makes you think you are?" Alec's voice was quiet.

"I see the way you look at him. It's the same way I used to look at Lotte," Jasmine said.

"Who's that?"

"The first person to break my heart." She didn't let go of Alec's hand. "She was beautiful, and seductive, and so, _so_ cruel. She was really good at leading me on, at making me think I was special to her, and then dropping me like a brick. I was in love with her, and she broke my heart."

Alec blinked in surprise. "You're gay?"

"Bi," Jasmine corrected. "My father hates me for it. He thinks I'm a freak of nature, just because I enjoy kissing girls. My mother was a lot more accepting of me, but then… well, she died."

"I had no idea," Alec said, kinder than she was used to from him.

"It's not a choice. Not even for bisexual people. We can't just rule out our feelings for the same gender. But I've never sickened myself in that way. If anything, I'm proud that I can love whoever I want. That it doesn't depend on the person's gender. And you—" Jasmine gave his hand a squeeze. "You should be proud as well."

"You can't tell him. You can't tell Jace," Alec said. "And you can't tell my parents either. Or Hodge. Just—don't tell anyone."

"I wasn't going to." Jasmine shook her head. "It's up to you. But whatever you do, please, just don't hate yourself for being the way that you are."

"What makes you think I do?"

"Just guessing," said Jasmine. "Thanks for talking to me, Alec."

"Sure."

She leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek, before getting to her feet and bidding him good-night.

o000o

Jasmine woke up at nine-thirty. She quickly got dressed into a dark red top with three-quarter sleeves, black shorts with suspenders, fishnet tights, and her combat boots. She painted her lips red, coated her lashes with mascara, and made a messy fish tail braid down her back.

She wondered how it was that every time she put less effort into how she looked, she turned out looking better than usual. Not that she was complaining.

She immediately went down to the library, where she'd expected to see Hodge. Instead she saw Jace, leaning back on his chair, his feet propped up on Hodge's desk. He was reading a book when she walked in.

"Goodmorning," Jasmine said. He looked up at her through hooded eyes and gave her an acknowledging nod. "Have you seen Hodge?"

"Greenhouse," Jace answered. "He likes to go up there to think."

"Would it be rude if I joined him?"

"It would be rude to take my presence for granted." He smirked and Jasmine smiled back at him. She neared him, pushed his feet off the desk, and sat down where they had been. She noticed his gaze, which was on her legs. "Nice tights," he said. "Try not to get them caught on anything."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. You think they look hot on me." She nudged his knee with her booted toes.

"You're not wrong."

Jasmine's jaw dropped. "I was _joking_."

"I wasn't."

She laughed and jumped off the desk, smoothing down her skirt. "All right, I'm leaving before you start undressing me with your eyes."

"I would do no such thing, and frankly, I'm insulted," said Jace. "If anything, I'd start undressing you with my hands."

Jasmine flushed, but she knew he was messing with her. "You enjoy making me squirm, don't you?"

Jace laughed out loud. "Can't say no to that."

"God, I hate you." She covered her face with her hands.

"Come on, now. We both know that's not true."

"I'm leaving."

She turned to walk out, but was pulled back by Jace with such a force that she fell into his lap. She instinctively put an arm around his neck to steady herself, and felt his hands on her waist. Her heart skipped a beat, and suddenly neither of them were laughing anymore. Jasmine's mouth felt dry. She swallowed and said: "A little aggressive if you ask me."

Jace's breath felt warm on her lips. "I guess I don't know my own strength."

Jasmine thought he might kiss her, but she'd never know, because they were interrupted by a masculine voice. "Please, children," Hodge sighed. " _Not_ on my desk." Jasmine jumped off Jace's lap, flustered.

"Technically," Jace pointed out, "it's a chair."

Hodge smiled a little and walked towards them. "Don't get smart with me, boy."

Jasmine cleared her throat. "I was looking for you, Hodge," she said.

"Oh?" His eyebrows jumped up.

"Yeah, I need the Inquisitor's phone number. Or the Consul's. Or even Maryse's," Jasmine said. "I need to know I'm protected."

"Of course you're protected," Hodge said, frowning. "The Institute is a safe haven for—"

"Not _that_ kind of protection. I mean from my father. He called last night. I mean, this morning. Somewhere in between." She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "And he threatened me. I need to know that he won't set foot inside this building."

Hodge looked horrified. "I know what we talked about, Jasmine, but he is still your father. If you call anybody of the officials, you might as well—"

Jasmine clenched her jaw. "I don't want that man near me."

"Most children do not get along with their parents, but—"

"Hodge." Jace's voice was surprisingly soft. "It's more serious than that."

"I'm sure you know my father. You must." She hugged herself. "You were both in the Circle."

Hodge blinked. "How did you know?"

Jasmine shrugged. "Word gets around," she said. "So you do know him. You know what he's like."

"Yes, I do. Though he wasn't always the way he is now: serious and unsmiling. Valentine changed him. The death of his sister changed him." Hodge looked pained. "Your mother was the only one who could bring out his softer side. She was never much of a warrior, Noella. It's why she and Maryse lost contact. Noella wanted nothing to do with Maryse after the Uprising. She hated the Circle's ways."

"Then how come she married my father?" Jasmine asked. "He was one of Valentine's best men."

"My guess is she saw a different side to him. Or maybe she refused to believe he was anything like other Circle members," said Hodge. "She was in love. People do all kinds of things for love. Put their lives, morals and everything they stand for on the line. Have you ever been in love, Jasmine?"

Jasmine nodded. "Once. I completely lost myself. I became an empty shell of the person I used to be. It took me months to find myself again. To remember my goals, my hobbies. Everything I'd once loved had become that person. I lived for her."

Hodge didn't question the pronoun at the end, and Jasmine appreciated that. "It's the Sianoor blood in you. Your emotions run deep and wide. I remember your aunt Darya. A fiery little one, she was, but she was also the most sensitive young woman I'd ever been around. She felt more than anyone I knew, whether that'd be hatred, determination, shame, anger, or love. Compassion. Oh, how compassionate she was. She was never meant to be part of the Circle. I still, to this day, don't know how Valentine convinced her to join." Hodge shook his head. "Your father, however, turned cold after she died. I doubt he feels anything other than hatred, if he even allows himself to feel anything."

"That sounds like him," Jasmine said quietly. "Do you understand why I can't go back to him? I don't think I would have known love if it wasn't for my mother and Marielle."

"Marielle?"

"My tutor," Jasmine said.

"I see." Hodge sighed. "I'll talk to Maryse. It's the best I can do."

Jasmine nodded and thanked him, before walking out. It was only when she stood in the hall that she saw Jace had followed her. He really did walk soundlessly, she thought. "You okay?" she asked.

Jace was taken aback. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you always answer questions with questions?"

"Do you?"

Jasmine laughed. "You were quiet back there. Very un-Jace-like," she said. "What's up?"

"I figured it was not my place to speak," said Jace seriously.

"And you're sure that that's the only thing bothering you?"

"Yes."

Jasmine didn't pry. Instead, she suggested they'd go get some breakfast.

o000o

"Be honest," Jasmine said around the cherry red straw of her smoothie. "Do you think she's hot?" She nodded her head in the fey waitress's direction. Jace, who sat on the opposite side of their booth, turned to see who she was referring to.

"Kaelie?" he asked.

Jasmine shrugged. "Is that her name?"

"I just called her that, didn't I?"

"You're infuriating," Jasmine said with a roll of her eyes. "I asked you a question. Do you think she's cute?"

"Cute? No. Decent-looking? Sure."

Jasmine pressed her lips to a line, flattening her straw as well. "All right, good to know." She sipped her smoothie in silence. They'd been at Taki's for a few hours. Long enough to order a second meal, anyway. It felt like a lazy day, honestly.

Jace eyed her suspiciously. "You're jealous," he said.

She snorted and looked off to the side. "Yeah, right," she scoffed. "You don't know what wearing fishnet tights feels like. If you did, you'd know nobody would ever be jealous wearing fishnets."

"And why is that?"

"Because they look freaking hot, okay."

Jace chuckled airily, and changed the subject. "I've been thinking. You remember last night's mundie girl?"

"Clary?"

"The redhead. There was something unusual about her. She could see us, for one, but that's not it. Maybe she's not a mundane after all," he said.

Jasmine nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. She could be half-pixie. She certainly had the temper." She shrugged her shoulders. "And she was tiny."

"We'd know if she were a fey," Jace said. "We've been trained to know Downworlders from people."

"Downworlders _are_ people," Jasmine reminded him.

"You know what I mean," said Jace. He bit into a fry. "I think the girl might be a Shadowhunter."

"Sure. It's possible." She fidgeted. "So what do you want to do? Look for her?"

"Keep an eye out," Jace corrected.

Jasmine agreed, but she doubted they'd find her again. It just seemed unlikely.

Later, when she and Jace were heading back to the Institute, she spotted a little restaurant on the way. She looked at the name, _Nacho Mama,_ and laughed. "That's cute," she said, stopping to look through the glass. Surely enough, she saw a flash of red hair. Jace must have seen the girl too, because he smirked down at Jasmine and pulled her back a little until they'd be out of her sight if Clary looked outside. "Well, that was easy," she breathed, looking up at him. "Finding her, I mean."

His gaze was on Clary, though, and Jasmine felt her stomach clench. His curling lashes, the set of his jaw, his fine blonde hair—it was like God had created him for the sole purpose of distracting her. She had never seen the kind of beauty that made everything around it seem irrelevant. Now she had.

"They're leaving," said Jace, snapping Jasmine out of her thoughts. "The other mundane, the idiot who got the bouncer last night, is with her."

Clary and her friend walked out of _Nacho Mama_ , unaware that they were being watched, and Jasmine took a breath. "So, what do we do? We can't just go up to them. Her friend will think she's nuts for talking to invisible people."

Jace grinned, baring his only imperfection—a chipped incisor—which only further endeared him to her. "We follow them."

She blinked. "You're nuts. Don't you think they'll notice?" she asked. "Or at least the redhead?"

"Not if we're careful," said Jace, and Jasmine threw her head back in thought. "Soundless runes will do the trick."

"Alright, fine," she said, getting out her stele. "Come on, they're getting away."

 **I feel like this chapter was boring, but I promise this is leading up to some shit. Keep in mind, Luke will come back a lot more often. He has a bigger part in this story than he did in the original TMI, and I love it. What do you guys think so far?**


	8. Chapter 8

**GUYS. THERE'S A THING AT THE END. THIS CHAPTER WAS SO SATISFYING TO WRITE OMG.**

Jasmine stifled her laughter as a hopeless teenage boy her age, took the stage at Java Jones; a coffee shop she and Jace had followed Clary to. He struggled with the microphone and then said, "Sorry about that, guys! All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled'."

"Oh, this is going to be good," she whispered to Jace, who only grinned.

"Come, my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!" Eric cried, and Jasmine had to bite the tip of her tongue to keep from laughing too hard. "Turgid is my torment! Agony swells within!"

"Shush for a second," Jace told her quietly, and nodded his head in Clary's direction. "This is even better. Listen to them."

The boy in glasses—Clary's friend—was talking to her about something, and as she listened closer, she found it anything but funny. It was sad, if not cute. "Because I like someone else," the boy said, and he was looking at Clary with large, puppy-like eyes. Jasmine smiled a little.

"You're not gay, are you?" Clary asked, and Jasmine rolled her eyes. She really was blind.

"If I were, I would dress better," Simon protested.

"So, who is it then?"

Jace coughed loudly, as if attempting to hide his laughter. Clary, however, seemed to have heard him, because she turned around in her seat. She paled at the sight of them. Jasmine and Jace waved at the same time, though it hadn't been planned that way.

"Come on," he told Jasmine, and got to his feet. She did as well, knowing that Clary would follow them outside. She just had a feeling she would.

Jace slouched against the wall and got out his Sensor, which was confusing to Jasmine. What did he want with the thing? They weren't hunting for demons, were they?

Clary was there, suddenly, and Jasmine snapped her head around, her braid flying over her shoulder. Jace looked up as well. "Your friend's poetry is terrible," he said.

Jasmine smirked. "I thought it was entertaining," she said. "I haven't heard anybody make use of the word loins in a long time."

Clary blinked. "What?"

"Did we stutter?" Jasmine asked, and was surprised at the bitchiness in her voice. It was so un-like her to act that way, and yet she was sizing the girl up with her eyes, more dangerously than she ever had. She felt like a true Shadowhunter: proud and judgemental. She hated it, but somehow, she liked it as well.

"Why are you following me?" asked Clary, angrier than she was before. She really did have a temper, Jasmine thought.

Jace looked at her lazily. "Who says we were following you?"

"Nice try. And you were eavesdropping, too. Do you want to tell me what this is about, or should I just call the police?"

"The police can't see us, Clary," Jasmine said, and to her relief, she sounded a lot nicer than before. "They can't arrest people they can't see. I'm surprised _you_ can see us."

"Strange, isn't it?" said Jace. "She seems to be a mundane like any other mundane, yet she can see us. It's a conundrum."

"What's a mundane?" asked Clary.

"Someone of the human world. Someone like you."

"But you're human," Clary said.

"Someone _ordinary_ ," Jasmine added.

"Well, what are you, if not ordinary?"

Jace started to grin. "We're called Shadowhunters," he said. "At least, that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names for us." Jasmine laughed.

"Downworlders?"

"The Night Children. Warlocks. The fey. The magical folk of this dimension."

Clary shook her head. "Don't stop there. I suppose there are also, what, vampires and werewolves and zombies?"

"Technically," Jasmine pointed out, "Vampires _are_ the Night Children."

"Of course they are," Clary huffed. Jasmine did not like her tone, but Jace seemed unaffected.

"And zombies farther south, where the voudun priests are," he threw in.

"What about mummies? Do they only hang around Egypt?" Clary asked.

"Don't be ridiculous. No one believes in mummies."

"They don't?"

"Of course not," Jace said. He looked up at the sky, and then back at Clary. "It's getting dark out. We should head back to the Institute."

"We? I hope you mean the two of you," Clary said.

"Actually," he said, "I meant the three of us. Let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere," said Clary, echoing her words from the night before. "Not with you. Not after what I saw last night."

"What you saw last night, Clary, was us slaying a demon. Not a person," said Jasmine.

"You're insane," she said.

"I've had about enough of this attitude of yours. You saw it with your own eyes," Jasmine said. "We killed that thing. It disappeared. That's not what a person does." She wiped the sweat on her brow with the back of her hand. She should have worn something lighter and less tight, she thought. This August weather was really unbearable.

"Hodge wants to talk to you," Jace told Clary.

"Who's Hodge?"

"My tutor," Jace explained. "He thinks you could be dangerous. Although, I'm sure that if he sees you, he'll change his mind. If you're dangerous, you sure don't know it."

"Well, what if I don't want to see him?" Clary asked.

"That's your problem. You can come either willingly or unwillingly."

Clary scoffed. "Are you threatening to kidnap me?"

"If you want to look at it that way," Jace said, "yes."

Clary opened her mouth, to protest most likely, but was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone.

"Go ahead and answer that if you like," Jace said.

She started digging in her bag, and when she finally found the phone, she pressed it to her ear. "Mom?"

Jasmine blinked impatiently, and felt her breath catch suddenly. She gasped when she heard a yelp, and then a crash, and turned to see if Jace had heard it too. He looked at her with a puzzled expression. When she blinked again, she saw a flash of the white hair she'd seen only once before. It was her father's friend. Why was she remembering him all of a sudden? And why couldn't she recall his name?

"What is it?" Jace asked her quietly.

Jasmine shook her head, which felt light on her shoulders. "Nothing," she said, and rubbed the back of her neck, which was slightly damp with her sweat. "I just thought I heard something." Not even half a second passed after she said this, when she heard the same voice groaning, as if somebody had gotten hurt in a fight. "Did you hear that?" she asked quickly.

"What?"

And again, Jasmine shook her head. "Nothing." How come he hadn't heard the woman? Was she going mad?

"Mom!" Clary cried into the phone. "Mom, are you all right? Who's found you? Mom, did you call the police? Did you—" She went white. "Mom! Mom, are you there?"

"Clary," Jace said.

jasmine frowned. What's going on?" Clary ignored them and dialed a number. When no one replied, Clary's hands started shaking. Jasmine felt her panic, and it had started to affect her as well. She worried for the girl. Clary dropped the phone, and bent to pick it up. She swore, seeing the cracked screen, and then threw it against the ground angrily.

"Stop that," Jace said.

Jasmine squatted down to her level, though careful not to let her skirt ride up, and put her hands on Clary's trembling shoulders. "What happened?" she asked. Clary jerked away from her.

"Give me your phone," she said, straightening up. Clary took Jace's Sensor out of his pocket. "I have to—"

"It's not a phone," said Jace. "It's a Sensor. You won't be able to use it."

"But I need to call the police!" She was frantic.

"Tell us what happened first," Jace tried to reason. "We can help you."

Clary turned to run, but Jasmine stood upright and caught her wrist just in time. "Clary, wai—" A fist slammed into her mouth, and she jerked back with a shriek. Hot blood rushed to her lips, and when she came back to her senses, Clary was gone.

"Are you all right?" Jace asked. Jasmine, though teary-eyed, nodded. "Here, let me see." He put a hand under her chin and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. The taste of blood was the only thing keeping her on her feet and not in the clouds.

"We should—" She cleared her throat, "—we should follow her."

"Mhm," said Jace, reaching into his pocket. He got out a stele and quickly scribbled an _iratze_ on her forearm. "That'll stop the swelling." He winked—a beautiful thing to see, honestly—and started after Clary, only waiting for Jasmine to catch up.

o000o

The apartment was torn up to every last belonging. Paintings, furniture, everything. Nothing was in one piece anymore. What the hell had happened?

"There," Jace breathed. Jasmine snapped her head around to see Jace kneeling next to Clary's collapsed figure, a dead Ravener demon on top of her. It was scaly, slimy and everything else that's ugly. And then it spasmed, and Jasmine gasped. Jace stabbed it with his kindjal, killing it instantly.

Jasmine grimaced. "Ugh, I've always hated those things," she said. "More than other demons, anyway."

"Help me out," said Jace, grabbing Clary's limp wrist. He tried to pull her out from under the thing, but he didn't succeed.

Jasmine looked around for something to use, and settled on an empty frame of a painting. She plucked it off the wall, smashed it in half against the floor, and went to knock the monster off Clary, but saw that Jace had already managed to cut it into pieces with his kindjal.

"Well, that's one way," Jasmine said, feeling both deflated and slightly amused. She dropped the broken frame and helped Jace prop her up against the wall. Her head fell onto her chest, baring the sting on the back of her neck. "Oh, Jesus. If she's a mundane, there's no way she'll survive."

"Let's get outside first, and then we'll see if she survives," Jace said, and went to lift her, but was stopped by Jasmine.

"I've got her," she said, and lifted the redhead over her shoulder. She'd never been very strong, not like a Shadowhunter was supposed to be, but she was motivated to carry Clary herself. For some reason, she didn't want Jace's hands on her. It couldn't have been jealousy, could it? The girl was dying, for crying out loud, and Jasmine and Jace weren't even a thing. It was pointless, useless and inexplicable. Maybe Jasmine just wanted to impress him. She didn't know.

"Lucky the Ravener was half-dead when it got her," Jace said, guiding her outside. "Or she would have been dead by now."

"What killed it, though?" Jasmine asked, struggling with Clary's weight. Up close, she realized that even though Clary was tiny, they were _about_ the same size. Not completely—Clary was very short and flatter in places—but they were close. Clary came up to Jasmine's ears. It was more the space that they took up as individuals that was close.

"She shoved my Sensor down its throat," Jace said with a laugh. "She's feisty."

"She is indeed," said Jasmine, remembering the punch thrown earlier. She was strong, too, Jasmine thought. They reached a patch of grass behind some rose bushes, and Jasmine lowered the redhead on her shoulder. She carefully laid Clary down on her back, and knelt next to her. "We can't use any runes on her, can we?"

Jace's mouth was quirked in thought. "We can try."

"But the Covenant—"

"It's fine. I'm pretty sure she's a Shadowhunter like us," Jace assured, and Jasmine took out her stele.

"We could turn her into a Forsaken," she warned.

"It's either that or her death," Jace said. Jasmine took a breath and decided he was right. She took Clary's arm and made an _iratze_ , praying to God that they were doing the right thing. "While you're at it, you might want to glamour her."

She did. She made another rune—this time on the back of her hand. Jace got out a piece of cloth and a tube of something like an herbal salve.

"I see you've come prepared," said Jasmine.

Jace smiled at her sideways. "Always."

Clary woke up shortly after, gagging, and Jace immediately told her not to move. Jasmine took the cloth and the salve from him, and started applying them to Clary's sting wound. Clary, disobediently, turned her head, winced and gagged again.

"I told you not to move," Jace hissed. ""That Ravener demon got you in the back of the neck. It was half-dead so it wasn't much of a sting, but we have to get you to the Institute."

"Hold still," Jasmine ordered. Clary started, as if she hadn't realized Jasmine was there as well.

"That thing—the monster—it talked," Clary said, shaking like a leaf.

"It's normal for a demon to talk," Jasmine explained. She raised a hand to the other girl's forehead, and felt her temperature. "You're burning up."

"There's Ravener poison coursing through your veins right now. You'll be dead in an hour if you don't come with us," Jace said, getting to his feet.

Clary coughed, reddening her lips with blood. "My mom," she gasped.

"Where is she?" Jasmine asked as she helped her up.

"I don't know," Clary said. The strips of cloth on her neck seemed to slip. Jasmine reached out to fix them, and felt her fingers start to get hot. She looked at her palm, which was… glowing, like a dim light bulb. She remembered when she'd been attacked in the alley next to Luke's book store, and her shoulder had been bitten by a demon. Her hand had felt hot the way it did then. Her shoulder had healed so quickly…

Instinctively, Jasmine reached out and touched the back of Clary's neck, feeling her spasm under her touch.

"Hold still," Jasmine instructed, breathlessly. Her eyes were wide, and she was shocked by what happened next.

Clary's feverish eyes seemed to go back to normal, and Jasmine herself felt drained of energy, as if Clary's wound had soaked in all of it. Clary seemed to drift away, and soon she fell unconscious.

"What was that?" Jace asked, confusion written all over his face.

Jasmine looked at her hand, which had gone back to normal. "I have no idea. Turn her over."

Jace did, and breathed an incredulous laugh at the sight of her bare neck. All that was left was a scar, and the remains of the salve. "It's gone. The sting is gone. You—you healed her," he said. "How did you… have you always been able to do that?"

Jasmine shook her head. "I don't know. I… don't know."

"Let's get to the Institute," Jace said. "Maybe Hodge has an answer."

He didn't. Hodge was at a loss for words when they told him what happened. Clary was in the infirmary, still unconscious, even after two hours of being there. Jasmine and Hodge were the only people sitting in the library—Isabelle, Jace and Alec stood around the desk, brainstorming theories. Jasmine had a warm cup of herbal tea in her hands. It was one of Hodge's creations. He'd said it would restore her energy.

"Maybe she has a warlock in the family," Alec tried. "It could be genetic."

"No, there are no Downworlders in my family. Not close to my generation, anyway," Jasmine said. "I'd know."

Isabelle didn't seem to believe it. "You must have known at one point that you had these powers. How else would you know to use them? You healed the mundie, didn't you?"

"Instinct," Jasmine said simply. "My hand felt drawn to her wound."

"Remarkable," said Hodge.

Jasmine's eyelids felt heavy, despite Hodge's tea. Maybe she hadn't had enough of it. It was delicious as it was, though. Even without the medicinal purpose. Sweet like maple syrup, with a tiny pinch of cinnamon.

"Has somebody checked on Clary?" she asked. Nobody answered. "Fine, I'll go myself." She set down her tea, almost spilling it by accident, and trudged out of the room. She heard murmuring behind her, but she didn't care about what they were saying. She changed her mind halfway, deciding she didn't care enough about Clary either to go and check up on her. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She heard footsteps, and then she was looking at a pair of booted feet. " _Why_ are you on the floor?" It was Jace.

Jasmine blinked, and realized why she felt so cold. She was lying on polished marble, curled up like a ball. Why _was_ she on the floor? "I don't know," she said hoarsely.

Jace sighed, bent over and grabbed her upperarms. "Up you go," he said, and hauled her to her feet. She fell against him, and without thinking, wrapped her arms around his waist. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled his scent. He smelled like metal, blood and something sweet she couldn't put her finger on.

"Tell Hodge he is a lousy tea-maker," Jasmine slurred. Jace's chest vibrated with laughter.

"I will." He hooked his arms around her, and helped her walk to the elevator. She raised a heavy hand and tangled her fingers in his blonde curls.

"You're really pretty," she said. "You're the prettiest human I've ever seen."

"So I've heard."

She looked at his face and saw him smiling down at her. It wasn't an arrogant kind of smile. It was more like the way she looked at adorable babies, or little puppies. It was an affectionate smile. It looked so foreign on Jace, Jasmine thought.

He led her through the Institute's halls, and safely got her to her room. She kicked off her boots and crawled into bed. She watched Jace stand over her as she cuddled up to her pillow. He looked like an angel. Like a true guardian angel, sent by God himself to protect and take care of her. He was beautiful.

"Are you leaving?" she asked.

"I was planning to."

"Can you stay with me for a little bit?"

Jace sat down at the edge of her bed, and moved a strand of hair out of her face. "Want me to tell you a story too?" he asked, his tone mocking. She reached up and attempted to slap his arm, but it turned into a touch of her fingers to his shoulder. She absently moved her hand down to the collar of his shirt, and gave it a tug. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I just—get down here. With your face."

Jace chuckled airily. "I wonder if Hodge didn't put any alcohol in your tea."

" _Jace_."

The corner of Jace's mouth turned upward, and he leaned down the way Jasmine had wanted him to. Her fingertips were on his throat now, and she felt his surprisingly uneven pulse. She was just conscious enough to feel the light brush of his lips against hers, but blacked out not only half a second in.

 **i'M CrYiNg please review omg i'm so happy but also so confused like how could you fall asleEP WHEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO KISS JACE I'D BE ALL OVER THAT BOY I'M NOT EVEN JOKING**

 **Also, the healing thing. WhAtT. Aye don't forget that Hodge is not to be trusted like Jasmine better not drink anything that man serves her. Psssh. Stupid ass.**


	9. Chapter 9

**GUYS THIS CHAPTER IS 6000 WORDS JFC. I don't mind the long chapters, but if you do, please tell me. I know some of y'all get bored soon.**

Jasmine's forehead was pressed against the back of Jace's neck, her arms around his waist. One of his hands was on hers, the other holding the reins of a horse. They moved forward at a relaxed pace. A soft breeze blew through the trees. They were in Idris, trotting along the countryside.

Jasmine wore a gold, glittery dress with a layered, ruffled skirt. Her sleeves were long, and she wore light flats on her feet. When she blinked, she caught sight of the rough flakes of gold glitter in her eyelashes. She knew she looked beautiful, and Jace wasn't any less stunning. She couldn't see his face, but he was wearing a gold blazer, though his clothes were less glittery than hers.

Neither of them were speaking, leaving only the sound of the rustling leaves, buzzing bees and singing birds. Jace's thumb brushed over the back of her hand soothingly, and she felt peaceful. Complete.

Jace inhaled deeply, and slightly turned his face to meet her eyes. When he did, she knew that he felt it, too. He was happier than she'd ever seen him. He smiled, raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"We're home," was all he said, and stopped the horse in its tracks. He jumped down, and was about to help her get off, when suddenly, she opened her eyes.

She turned over in bed, feeling as if her limbs were made of feathers. Her heart made a leap when she realized that she'd been dreaming. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and sat up. She was back in her boring room. Well, not _her_ room, but the Institute's. She was back in New York.

Still, she felt as happy as she had in her dream—euphoric, almost. Though slightly confused. Her dreams had never been that clear, logical or detailed before. Not that riding a horse with Jace Wayland was a very logical thought. Her mind really did make up the strangest things.

 _"We're home,"_ he'd said.

She pushed back the sheets and got up. She was still wearing yesterday's clothes: fishnets which were now ripped, her black skirt, and a dark red shirt. Her hair, however, had come out of its braid. She shed her clothes, ruffled her hair, and stepped into the little bathroom. She looked at her reflection, and was startled when she found that her eyes were a dark gold color, when usually, they were more of a tawny color.

"Jesus," she said, rubbing her face. "What did Hodge put in my tea?"

She hopped in the shower, grinning from ear to ear. She was a dizzy kind of happy, the kind that she had heard only drugs made you feel. She shrugged it off, deciding that the almost-kind-of kiss with Jace was probably why she felt the way that she did.

Jasmine took a quick shower, dried herself off with her shirt (nobody had bothered to put a towel in the bathroom), and got dressed. The zipper of her blue sundress, which usually took some muscle force to close, went up as smoothly as water. She had lost weight. Jasmine didn't know if that was a good thing or not, but it was noticeable. It was only logical, of course. At home she cooked herself, Marielle and her father two meals a day at least. In New York, food wasn't the first thing on her mind. She wasn't eating very much.

The infirmary was empty when she went to check on Clary. For a moment she was afraid that she was dead, but when she walked around for a bit, she heard her voice coming from the library.

"My mother would have told me," she said.

"Not necessarily," said Jace, and Jasmine's heart fluttered at his voice. _Stop it,_ she told herself. "We all have secrets."

"Luke," Clary said. "Our friend. He would know."

"Know what?" Jasmine asked, nearing the group of people around Hodge's desk. Alec, Isabelle, Jace, Clary and Hodge were all there. She avoided Jace's eyes and instead, focused hers on Clary. "Nevermind, continue."

Clary turned to Hodge. "Can I call him? Is there a phone?" She turned to Jace. "Please."

Jace looked at Hodge, who nodded and showed Clary an old-fashioned black telephone with a rotary dial. Clary lifted it to her ear, and after a few seconds, she breathed in sharply. "Luke! It's me. It's Clary." She leaned against the desk. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't call you before. Luke, my mom—" She sighed. "Then you haven't heard from her."

Jasmine caught Alec's eye and raised a questioning eyebrow. He only shrugged in response. Clary continued the conversation, and when she hung up, she looked pale and ready to start bawling. _Poor girl_ , Jasmine thought.

"What happened?" she asked. Clary didn't respond. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I think I'd like to have a talk with Clary," said Hodge. "Alone."

Alec stood up. "Fine. We'll leave you to it."

"Call us if you need anything," Jasmine added. Jace looked as hesitant as she felt, but didn't object. They walked into the hall, leaving Clary and Hodge alone.

"I don't like her," Alec said simply.

Jasmine laughed. "You don't like anybody other than your family. And Jace," she said as an afterthought.

"I don't mind you much either. Not as much as before," Alec announced with a straight face.

"That's good." She grinned. Her stomach groaned, and so did she. "Ugh, I'm starving."

Isabelle perked up. "Oh! I'll go make us some pancakes!"

"No!" Alec and Jace said at the same time.

Isabelle crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Jasmine giggled and gently pulled her in the kitchen's direction. "Maybe let me make the batter," she suggested politely.

"Aw, but that's the best part!" Isabelle objected, but Jasmine was not going to let her poison them. The other girl's cooking was close to lethal.

"I think I'm going to head down to the weapons room," said Jace.

"I'll come with you," Alec agreed, and then the two of them were gone. Jasmine shrugged, pulled her hair up into a messy bun and followed Isabelle into the kitchen. They got out a bowl, some ingredients and a pan, and started cooking. Jasmine had to stop Isabelle from throwing in a couple of ingredients that _definitely_ didn't belong in pancakes, but other than that it went well.

"You're glowing," observed the taller girl.

Jasmine blinked. "I am?" She touched her face, afraid that she was _really_ glowing, the way her hands had glowed the day before. It wouldn't have surprised her, considering strange things were happening all around.

"Figuratively speaking, of course," Isabelle said. "You look happy."

"Hodge knows his herbs," she said, thinking back on the tea he had served her the night before.

"Well, yeah, but I don't think that has anything to do with it." Isabelle greased the pan. "Listen, I'm not very good at… talking to girls. I've never been around them very much, so I don't know how this goes. I mean, is this about Jace? You two seem to be getting quite close."

Jasmine nearly dropped the spatula in her hand. "Uh, I guess." She cleared her throat awkwardly, and poured some of the batter in the pan.

"Don't 'I guess' me. You're the only person who's ever looked at Jace like he's a precious little kitten instead of the warrior he is," said Isabelle, and Jasmine laughed.

"I don't think so. I don't look at him like that."

"Uh, yeah you do."

Jasmine gave her a look. "Iz. Stop."

"You're blushing."

"No, I'm not!"

Isabelle smiled for what seemed like the first time since they'd met. "You're not as obnoxious as you were before," she said.

Jasmine's jaw dropped indignantly. "What is it with you and Alec? Why do you hate me?"

"We don't anymore." Her smile turned into a grin, and Jasmine rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, a sharp _smack_ was heard. "What the hell was that for?" Jace asked. Jasmine and Isabelle rushed into the hall to see Clary and Jace standing near the door.

"The other ten percent," said Clary.

"Everything okay?" Jasmine said. There was an edge to her voice. Clary might be going through a rough time, she thought, but that was no way to treat somebody who had saved her life.

"Peachy," said Jace, turning to look at her. There was a red mark across his cheek, and she felt her stomach clench. _That bitch_.

"Where are you guys going?" Isabelle asked.

"Home," Clary answered. "My home. To look through my mother's things."

"Everything was torn up, though." Jasmine crossed her arms in thought. "And there might be more demons wandering about."

"That's why I'm going with her," said Jace.

"You are?" Her eyebrows jumped up. "Hang on, I'll join you." She took off her apron and threw it to Isabelle, who caught it effortlessly.

"Are you sure?" Jace asked. "I can handle this—"

"I know you can, but an extra hand might come in handy." With a bold wink, she added in, "Especially if it's my hand." She still couldn't believe she had healer's hands. It was bizarre and unexpected. It did explain a few things, though. Like the way she could always heal her mother's headaches by massaging her scalp, or help her father's back pains by rubbing his shoulders. She'd always thought she was just good at giving massages.

Isabelle looked hesitant. "But the pancakes…"

"Give them to Alec and Hodge," said Jasmine.

She groaned. "Ugh, fine," she said, and walked back into the kitchen.

Jasmine turned to Clary and Jace and said: "Let's go."

"You might want to grab a weapon or two," Jace suggested. Jasmine raised the skirt of her dress a little until the thigh sheath she'd borrowed from Isabelle was visible. The handle of a seraph blade was stuck through it. Jace grinned at her and said, "Prepared for anything, I see."

Clary looked slightly flustered, though Jasmine didn't see why she would.

"Do you have your stele? I swear, if it's in your bra—"

Jasmine laughed out loud, cutting across Jace's words. "Other thigh," she said simply, and then made a move toward the door. "Coming?"

Jace neared her, and unexpectedly raised his hand to her cheek. Her breath caught. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, and then he let go of her. His eyes were hooded when he spoke: "There was some flour on your face."

Clary watched them awkwardly, and Jasmine cleared her throat to hopefully even out her voice. "Thanks. Now let's go."

The three of them got a whole bunch of looks on the way, especially on the L train. It was the kind of attention Jasmine was not used to, especially since she usually used a glamour when she was out in public. Jace got stared at by girls, and Jasmine by a guy or two. She wondered why she felt so confident all of a sudden. It wasn't because of the attention, she was sure. Guys were paying attention to her _because_ of her confidence. It was the energy she gave off.

She'd been confident ever since Clary had been thrown into her life. Maybe she contrasted with the girl so much that it boosted her self esteem.

Jasmine wasn't the strongest Shadowhunter. She had a lot to learn still, but she guessed that compared to Clary, she was fierce and strong and maybe a little heroic. She hated to think it, but maybe, just _maybe_ she was better than her. At least in that aspect.

At the moment, Jace was explaining to her what a _parabatai_ was.

"We're here," said Jasmine, cutting their conversation short.

"It looks the same," Clary said, noticeably paler than before.

"On the outside." Jace reached into his jeans pocket and got out his Sensor. Jasmine would have to get one of those as well. She'd left hers back in Amsterdam.

"So that's a Sensor? What does it do?" Clary asked.

"It tells us if we should get our weapons out," Jasmine said. Clary looked confused for a moment, but then seemed to shrug it off.

Jace held the Sensor out in front of him as he walked towards the house. He furrowed his eyebrows when the device stopped ticking. "It's picking up trace activity, but that could just be left over from last night. I'm not getting anything strong enough for there to be demons present now."

Clary exhaled. "Good."

Jasmine noticed the scratches on the door, as if some creature with claws had lashed out at it. It was open, too. "I'll go first," she said hesitantly. She really didn't want to, but she was supposed to say things like that, wasn't she?

"No, I'll go," Jace said. He stepped inside, and motioned for the girls to follow him. The light inside was dim, and the air was surprisingly chilly enough to give Jasmine goosebumps.

The apartment was completely empty. All the furniture was gone, and so were the electronic devices. "Do you think the police did this?" she asked as she and Jace followed Clary into the kitchen.

"They might have," said Jace. He turned to Clary. "Are you satisfied? There's nothing here."

She shook her head. "I want to see my room."

Jace looked slightly agitated, but then he agreed. "If that's what it takes."

"Go with her," Jasmine said absently. Her feet were stuck to the floor, as if something was keeping her there. "I'll wait out here."

When Jace and Clary were gone, she closed her eyes and breathed in. Her mind seemed to explode with images. Two men, the Ravener, Forsaken, and a woman who looked an awful lot like Clary. She heard the same scream she had the day before, except it wasn't out of fear. It was a battle cry. Her mother was a warrior, a true Shadowhunter. And then she saw Clary, fighting the Ravener demon to the best of her ability.

All of these images startled the breath out of her, and she backed away until she hit a wall. When she came back to her senses she realized she was trembling, robbed of her energy.

She heard a crash, a thump and then a roar. " _Sansavi_!" Jace called out, and Jasmine cursed. She took out her seraph blade, named it _Gabriel_ , and ran down the short hallway, but Jace and Clary were already approaching. Jace caught Jasmine's arm and pushed her ahead of him. "Get her to safety!" he called out to her.

Jasmine took Clary's wrist and pulled her along as she ran out and down the staircase. "Will he be okay?" Clary asked frantically.

"I hope so," Jasmine said. "Stay here." She ran upstairs again, and saw Jace fighting a Forsaken. He ducked, but Jasmine wasn't quick enough to see the ax flying over his head. Her eyes widened and she raised her seraph blade to stop the ax from hitting her, but the blow of it only made her cry out in pain, as she was sure it had broken her wrists.

Jace whirled around, his eyes wild.

Jasmine dropped the seraph blade and fell on her side. It took a moment for her to realize the ax had hurt some part of her body, though at a less powerful force than it would have if she hadn't slowed it down with her blade.

"Jasmine!" Jace cried.

"I'm okay," she said quickly, though through gritted teeth. Jace continued to fight the giant as Jasmine struggled to get to her stele. How was she going to draw an _iratze_ now? Blood dripped down her shoulder, and she realized that that had been where the axe had landed. She cussed and yelped when she got her hand caught on her skirt. She should have worn gear. She managed to hold the stele between unbearably painful fingers, and made a healing rune on her arm.

Jace and the Forsaken tumbled down the stairs, making Jasmine gasp and call out his name.

She forced herself to her feet and half-stumbled down the stairs. She kneeled next to Jace, who was sprawled out on his back. The Forsaken lay over his legs, half dead.

She knew that she should kill it, but Jace's eyes were closed and she found his well-being more important. Besides, the Forsaken wasn't moving and her wrists were still too stiff to lift a blade. But they were slowly healing.

"Jace," she said, and thanked the Angel when he opened his eyes. "You're okay."

"Yeah. Are you?" His eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

"I'll be okay. The _iratze_ is working its job."

"Is the Forsaken dead?"

Clary came into view. "Almost," she said.

"Hell." He winced. "My legs."

"Hold still," Clary said, and pulled him out from under the Forsaken. Jasmine saw the color drain from his face. She asked him if he was all right.

"I'm fine," he claimed, but he was cradling his arm. He got to his feet. Jasmine's wrists were completely healed by the time he asked if either she or Clary could reach into his pocket for his other seraph blade.

"I've got it. You… heal your arm," she said, and raced up the stairs to retrieve her blade. When she got back, she saw that Jace had already named his seraph blade _Sanvi_. She sighed. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

Jace made a half-smile, and brought his seraph blade down on the Forsaken's neck. Jasmine looked away in disgust, because while the creature was as evil as a demon, it still bled like a person. Clary paled.

"I told you not to watch," Jace said to her.

"I thought it would disappear," she stammered. "Back to its own dimension—you said."

"I said that's what happens to demons when they die." Wincing, he shrugged his jacket off his shoulder. "That wasn't a demon." He slid his stele out of his belt, and was about to Mark himself, but Jasmine took it from him.

"Here, I'll do it," she said, touching the tip of the stele to his skin.

"Thanks," he said.

"That's amazing," Clary said. "How did you—?"

"That was an iratze—a healing rune," Jace explained.

"Are we going to tell Hodge what happened?" Jasmine asked.

"We're going to have to," he said. "He'll freak."

"Why will he freak?" asked Clary. "And I get that that thing isn't a demon—that's why the Sensor didn't register it, right?"

Jace nodded. "You see the scars all over its face?"

"Yes."

"Those were made with a stele. Like this one."

Jasmine zoned out as Jace continued to explain to Clary what Forsaken were and how they came to be. She slightly pushed up her skirt, stuck her stele and seraph blade into the thigh sheaths, and rolled her aching shoulders back. She reached up, struggled to get her hair out of its bun, and shook out the curls until they fell around her in a tangled mess. She looked up to see Jace staring at her, unblinking.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable in his presence.

"I said that there might be more of them upstairs." He still didn't blink. "I'm going back upstairs."

Jasmine squirmed under his gaze. "I guess I have no choice but to come with you."

"You always have a choice," Jace argued.

"Not when it comes to demons," Jasmine said with a sigh. She took her seraph blade back out and followed Jace up the steps. They didn't get very far, though, because a shrill voice made Jasmine jump out of her skin.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," it said in the thickest New York accent she had ever heard. Jace, Clary and Jasmine turned to see who had spoken. An old lady stood in the doorway of her apartment, dressed like a stereotypical gypsy. "There are more of them where the first one came from."

"Madame Dorothea?" Clary inquired.

Jace was staring at her. "But…"

"More what?" asked Clary.

"More Forsaken!" Madame Dorothea said cheerfully. Jasmine got a strange vibe from the lady. She looked like a witch, but then she didn't. She didn't know whether to trust the woman or not. "You have made a mess, haven't you? I'm sure you weren't planning on cleaning up either. Typical."

"But you're a mundane," Jace said, finishing his sentence.

"Maybe not," Jasmine said. "She knows what Forsaken are."

"So observant," said Dorothea, her eyes gleaming. "The Clave really broke the mold with you." The

Jace looked surprisingly angry. "You know about the Clave?" he said. "You knew about them, and you knew there were Forsaken in this house, and you didn't notify them? Just the existence of Forsaken is a crime against the Covenant—"

"Neither Clave nor Covenant have ever done anything for me," said Madame Dorothea, her angry eyes sending chills down Jasmine's spine. She was sure this lady could do harm if she wanted to. "I owe them nothing."

"Jace, stop," said Clary, and turned to Madame Dorothea. "If you know about the Clave and the Forsaken, then maybe you know what happened to my mother?"

Dorothea shook her head, looking at Clary pitifully. "My advice to you, is to forget about your mother. She's gone."

Jasmine flinched in sympathy for Clary. "You mean she's dead?"

"No," the gypsy said, speaking slowly. "I'm sure she's still alive. For now."

"Then I have to find her," Clary said. She seemed to be swaying on her feet. Jasmine moved down the steps and carefully placed her arm around the girl's shoulders to steady her. "You understand? I have to find her before—"

Madame Dorothea held up a hand. "I don't want to involve myself in Shadowhunter business."

"But you knew my mother. She was your neighbor—"

"This is an ocial Clave investigation." Jace cut her off. "I can always come back with the Silent Brothers."

Jasmine felt the corner of her mouth quirk upwards. Good going, Jace, she thought.

"Oh, for the—" Dorothea looked at her door, and then back at the three of them. "I suppose you might as well come in. I'll tell you what I can." She turned to glare at Jace. "But if you tell anyone I helped you, Shadowhunter, you'll wake up tomorrow with snakes for hair and an extra pair of arms."

"That might be nice, an extra pair of arms," Jace said. "Handy in a fight."

 _Sarcastic little shit_ , Jasmine thought, echoing her friend's catch phrase. It really seemed to define who Jace was.

"Not if they're growing out of your…" Dorothea paused and smiled maliciously. "Neck."

Jasmine wondered if she'd meant to mention a much more personal area, but decided that she didn't care. "Yikes," said Jace, clearly not affected by the thought.

"Yikes is right, Jace Wayland." Dorothea disappeared into the apartment.

Jasmine blinked. "How… did she—?"

Clary looked at Jace. "Wayland?"

"It's my name." Jace looked as shaken as Jasmine felt. "I can't say I like that she knows it"

"Still, I think we might as well try talking to her. What have we got to lose?"

"Once you've spent a bit more time in our world," Jace said, "you won't ask me that again."

"Well, we've always got our weapons," said Jasmine light-heartedly. "And I've always liked incense."

"I'm waiting!" Dorothea hollered. The three teenagers stepped inside and immediately started exploring the place. Jasmine picked up a stack of tarot cards. "Interested in fortune telling?" the older woman asked. "Or just nosy?"

Jasmine grinned sheepishly. "Both."

"Can you really tell fortunes?" Clary asked.

"My mother had a great talent. She could see a man's future in his hand or the leaves at the bottom of his teacup. She taught me some of her tricks." She turned to Jace. "Speaking of tea, young man, would you like some?"

Jace glanced up from reading the back of one of Dorothea's books. "What?"

"Tea. I find it both settles the stomach and concentrates the mind. Wonderful drink, tea."

"I'll have tea," Clary said.

Jace shrugged and put the book back on the shelf. "All right. As long as it isn't Earl Grey," he added, wrinkling his nose. "I hate bergamot." Madame Dorothea cackled loudly and disappeared into the back of the apartment.

Clary looked at Jace."You hate bergamot?"

"Yeah, what the hell?" Jasmine asked. "Earl Grey is amazing."

Jace shrugged. "To each his own." He jerked his chin at the books and said: "This must be the trash she keeps up front to impress credible mundanes. There's not one serious text here."

"Just because it's not the kind of magic you do—" Clary began, but one angry look from Jace and she shut up.

"I do not do magic," Jace said furiously. "Get it through your head: Human beings are not magic users. It's part of what makes them human. Witches and warlocks can only use magic because they have demon blood."

"Jace," Jasmine said quietly. "Easy." Jace took a breath, surprising her. She hadn't thought he'd listen to her. To be honest, he didn't seem like the type who listened to anyone, not even authorities.

Clary, ignorantly, continued. "But I've seen you use magic. You use enchanted weapons—"

"I use tools that are magical. And just to be able to do that, I have to undergo rigorous training. The rune tattoos on my skin protect me too. If you tried to use one of the seraph blades, for instance, it'd probably burn your skin, maybe kill you." The calmness of his voice did not match his words.

"All right, that's enough." Jasmine rubbed her face. She was worn out from the fight, and the images of Clary's mother nagged at her.

Madame Dorothea appeared. "Tea's on the table," she said. "There's no need for you three to keep standing there like donkeys. Come into the parlor."

"There's a parlor?" Clary asked.

"Of course there's a parlor," huffed Dorothea indignantly. "Where else would I entertain?"

"I'll just leave my hat with the footman," said Jace.

Madame Dorothea glared. "If you were half as funny as you thought you were, my boy, you'd be twice as funny as you are," she said, startling a laugh out of Jasmine.

She disappeared back through the curtain with a huff. Jace frowned. "I'm not quite sure what she meant by that."

"Really," said Clary. "It made perfect sense to me."

"She's saying you're not funny," Jasmine said, mockery clear in her voice. "It might come as a shock to you, but some people don't appreciate your humor."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Jace, stepping through the curtain.

Jasmine shrugged and followed. The parlor was dimly lit, but she was able to see just fine. "So, are you going to predict our futures now?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"If you can pay for it," said Dorothea, smiling crookedly.

"Well, I can only pay with Euros," she deadpanned.

"Fine by me."

"I wouldn't waste my money if I were you," Jace said. Jasmine elbowed him. There really was no need to be rude.

Clary sat down in one of the two armchairs. "This looks great," she said.

Dorothea smiled and said, "Have some tea. Milk? Sugar?" She lifted the pot, just as Jace lifted the plate of sandwiches.

Clary shrugged. "Sugar," she said.

Jace took a sandwich and bit into it. "Cucumber," he said.

"I always think cucumber sandwiches are just the thing for tea, don't you?" Madame Dorothea asked.

"I hate cucumber."

Jasmine rolled her eyes and took his sandwich from him. She was hungry, and a cucumber sandwich was nothing to turn her nose up at. "Is there anything else you hate?" she asked, uninterested.

"Liars."

Madame Dorothea set the tea pot down. "You can call me a liar all you like. It's true, I'm not a witch. But my mother was."

Jace choked on his tea. "That's impossible."

"Why impossible?" Clary asked. She took a sip of her tea.

"Because warlocks can't have children," said Jasmine.

"I see you've done your homework," Jace deadpanned. He eyed her. "Are you just going to stand there all day long?"

Jasmine blinked. Both of the armchairs were occupied. "It's not like there's room for me to sit," she said.

"There's plenty of room," Jace claimed, and leaned back in his chair.

"What, you mean—?"

Jace rolled his eyes, obviously bored. "I'm not going to bite," he said. His eyes gleamed humorously. "Or try to take off your clo—"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence." Jasmine shot him a warning look, and carefully placed her weight on his knees. She was not going to lean back. Not with Clary and Madame Dorothea staring at them.

"Fascinating," Dorothea said, smirking. "Drink your tea, child."

Jasmine sipped the drink, which was a little too bitter for her, honestly, but it reminded her of the kind of tea her mother taught her to make for her father. Persian tea tasted smoky, herbal and had a hint of something rose-y, just like Dorothea's tea. She had missed it. Dorothea reached for one of the sandwiches, but Clary had eaten them all. She chuckled. "It's good to see a young woman eat her fill. In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays."

Jasmine giggled. "Did you really just call Clary robust? My hand fits around her entire wrists, and I have pretty short fingers."

"Thanks," Clary said bitterly, setting her empty tea cup down. Madame Dorothea immediately picked it back up. "What?" Clary asked nervously. "Did I crack the cup or something?"

"She's reading your tea leaves," Jace said. For someone who sounded as bored as he did, he was leaning forward quite curiously. He was looking around Jasmine, his cheek touching her upperarm. Jasmine felt goosebumps rise on her skin.

"Is it bad?" Clary asked.

"It is neither bad nor good. It is confusing." Dorothea was scowling. She turned to Jace. "Give me your cup."

Jace looked as if he'd been verbally attacked. "But I'm not done with my—"

Madame Dorothea took the cup out of his hands and emptied it out in the pot until there was no tea left. She looked at the tea leaves at the bottom. "I see violence in your future, a great deal of blood shed by you and others. You'll fall in love with the right person. Also, you have an enemy."

"Only one? That's good news." Jace leaned back in his chair, and Jasmine had to reach back and grab his thigh to steady herself.

Dorothea put down his cup and picked up Clary's again. She shook her head. "There is nothing for me to read here. The images are jumbled, meaningless." She looked up at Clary. "Is there a block in your mind?"

Clary blinked in confusion. "A what?"

"Like a spell that might conceal a memory, or might have blocked out your Sight."

Clary shook her head. "No, of course not."

"You don't know that," Jasmine objected. "There might be."

"Something's blocking your memories, I'm almost sure of it," said Jace.

Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek in thought. "You're not the only one."

Dorothea looked at her, eyes gleaming. "Show me your cup, child," she said. Jasmine blinked, drank the last of it, and showed the older woman, who frowned and shook the cup slightly. "I see two men, both very close to you, even if you don't know it. Both bound to you by blood. Be careful who you trust." She stared at the bottom of the cup intently. "I see a great deal of courage needed here. A lover. It's a male, in case you were wondering." Dorothea suppressed a grin, obviously knowing about the girl's bisexuality.

"Is he hot?" Jasmine asked, though she was only half-joking. Jace snorted loudly behind her, and she slapped his knee.

Dorothea cackled. "Don't worry, you have a great taste. His attitude might need some work, though." She reached for a stack of cards. She fanned them, held them out to Clary and told her to pick one. Clary took one out, and held it up. "The Ace of Cups," Dorothea said, sounding puzzled. "The love card."

Clary looked at the card. "This is a good card, right?"

"Not necessarily," said Madame Dorothea. "The most terrible things men do, they do in the name of love. But it is a powerful card. What does it mean to you?"

"That my mother painted it," said Clary, dropping the card onto the table. "She did, didn't she?"

Madame Dorothea nodded. "She painted the whole pack. A gift for me."

"So you say," said Jace. "How well did you know Clary's mother?"

Clary looked at him. "Jace, you don't have to—"

Dorothea leaned back in her chair. "Jocelyn knew what I was, and I knew what she was. We didn't talk about it much. Sometimes she did favors for me—like painting this pack of cards—and in return I'd tell her the occasional piece of Downworld gossip. There was a name she asked me to keep an ear out for, and I did."

"What name was that?" Jace asked.

"Valentine."

Jasmine shivered. "Valentine?"

Clary sat straight up in her chair. "But that's—"

"And when you say you knew what Jocelyn was, what do you mean? What was she?" Jace asked.

"Jocelyn was what she was," said Dorothea. But in her past she'd been like you. A Shadowhunter. One of the Clave."

"No," Clary breathed.

Dorothea looked at her with sad eyes. "It's true. She chose to live in this house precisely because—"

Jace cut across her. "Because this is a Sanctuary," he said. "Isn't it? Your mother was a Control. She made this space, hidden, protected—it's a perfect spot for Downworlders on the run to hide out. That's what you do, isn't it? You hide criminals here."

"You would call them that," Dorothea said. "You're familiar with the motto of the Covenant?"

"Sed lex dura lex," said Jace, almost automatically. "'The Law is hard, but it is the Law.'"

"Sometimes the Law is too hard. I know the Clave would have taken me away from my mother if they could. You want me to let them do the same to others?"

"So you're a philanthropist." Jace looked disgusted. "I suppose you expect me to believe that Downworlders don't pay you handsomely for the privilege of your Sanctuary?"

Dorothea grinned, baring her gold molars. "We can't all get by on our looks like you."

Jasmine turned to look at Jace, whose eyes were cold. "I should tell the Clave about you—" he started.

"You can't!" Clary jumped up. "You promised."

"Clary, chill," said Jasmine, standing up as well.

"I never promised anything." Jace walked over to the wall and pushed one of the velvet hangings out of the way. "You want to tell me what this is?"

"It's a door, Jace," said Clary.

Jasmine groaned. "By the Angel, Clary, just stop talking for once."

Clary glared, but shut up.

"It's a Portal. Isn't it?" Jace demanded.

"It's a five-dimensional door," said Dorothea, laying the tarot cards back on the table. "Dimensions aren't all straight lines, you know," she added. "There are dips and folds and nooks and crannies all tucked away. It's a bit hard to explain when you've never studied dimensional theory, but, in essence, that door can take you anywhere in this dimension that you want to go. It's—"

"An escape hatch," Jace said, and turned to Clary. "That's why your mother wanted to live here. So she could always flee at a moment's notice."

"Then why didn't she—" Clary began, and stopped halfway, suddenly looking horried. "Because of me. She wouldn't leave without me last night. So she stayed."

Jace shook his head. "You can't blame yourself."

Tears welled in Clary's eyes. "I want to see where she would have gone," she said, reaching for the door. "I want to see where she was going to escape to—"

Jasmine's eyes widened. She and Jace both reached for Clary, but she had already turned the door knob. The door swung wide open, and Dorothea cried out. Clary was sucked into the portal, and instinctively, Jasmine jumped in after her.

 **AYE AYE NOTICE THE CHANGE IN JACE'S FORTUNE. YAS. Pls review bc i luv reviews hurrdurr okay I'll stop.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 guys! I don't think I've ever gotten this far (this quick) with a story omg I'm so proud of myself. Enjoy!**

Jasmine had been through Portals before. Once when she'd gone to Idris for her mother's funeral, and once when travelling to New York. But this was her first time not knowing where she would land. In New York, she'd landed in the warlock's loft. Safely. This portal, however, could teleport her halfway across the world and spit her out in an ocean somewhere.

Quickly, she thought of the Institute. She imagined it as best as she could, hoping that they'd end up there.

She felt a shoulder bang against her chest, a knee digging into her stomach, and a heavy weight on top of her. She groaned and rolled over, clutching her breasts.

"Oh my god," she choked out, sitting up. "Who the hell kneed me?"

"Well, you landed on me," Clary snapped. "Both of you did."

"Sorry, princess, I can't exactly control where I land," Jasmine said, and turned to look at Jace, who was scrambling to his feet. So he'd jumped through as well.

"And you didn't leave us much choice, did you?" he said to Clary. "Not after you decided to leap merrily through that Portal like you were jumping the F train. You're just lucky it didn't dump us out in the East River."

"You didn't have to come after me."

"Well, we did," said Jasmine, still wincing. "So would it kill you to show a little gratitude?" She sat up.

"We're back at the Institute," breathed Jace.

"Thank god," said Jasmine, her face screwed up.

Jace's eyebrows were furrowed when he looked down at her. "What's wrong?"

"My boobs hurt," she hissed, doubling over.

"Are they… _really_ that sensitive?"

"Yes," said Clary and Jasmine at the same time. Jasmine got to her feet, dusted herself off, and watched Jace reach for his keys.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Clary as the three of them stepped inside.

"Report to Hodge, I guess," said Jasmine. "But I could really use some food first."

"Agreed," Jace said. Clary had no choice but to follow them to the kitchen. Jace opened the fridge and looked around for a while, but couldn't find anything. Jasmine took over.

"How about you go find Hodge, and I'll make us something to eat?"

Jace looked at her warily. "And you're sure you're a better cook than Isabelle?"

Jasmine laughed and nodded. "I sure hope so. Don't tell her I said that." She seized a couple of vegetables and put them on the counter. "Go on." She shooed him away with one hand, and with a raised eyebrow, he turned around and walked out. Jasmine turned to Clary. "You know how to peel a potato?"

"Of course," she said, almost indignantly. Jasmine got a knife out of a drawer, found a cutting board in another, and put them in front of the redhead.

"I need them in cubes, all right?" she said, not unkindly.

"Aren't you supposed to cut them _after_ boiling them?"

Jasmine shrugged. "They cook faster when they're already cut up." Clary nodded and got to work. Jasmine grabbed a pot, filled it with water and put it on the stove.

"So, do you live here?" Clary asked, awkwardly attempting to make small talk.

"No," Jasmine said. "Not yet, anyway. I've only been here for four days. Isabelle and Alec are my cousins."

"Where are your parents?"

Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek. "Dead," she said, which wasn't a _complete_ lie. Clary dropped her gaze to the potato in her hand.

"Oh."

"Don't worry about it." Jasmine offered her a tight smile. "Just—know that I really do want to help you find your mother."

"Thanks. And I'm sorry about hitting you yesterday," said Clary.

"It's okay," Jasmine said. "Jace was quick to Mark me, or my lips would have been swollen for a good two days."

Clary moved her hair out of her face. "About Jace," she started hesitantly, "Are you and him… a thing?"

Jasmine nearly choked on her own saliva. "Are we what now?"

Clary shook her head and looked back down. "Nothing. Nevermind."

Jasmine exhaled. "Jace and I aren't dating," she said. _Not really._ "Why do you ask? You think he's cute?"

Clary's cheeks turned pink, but she was quick to shake her head. "I was just wondering. You two look close. Did you know who he was before you came to New York?"

"No. I'd heard of his father, though," said Jasmine. "And I think he just feels bad for me, because I don't really have anyone to rely on. I think he feels like he has to take care of me or whatever."

"Or maybe he likes you," Clary said with a shy shrug of her shoulders.

"Unlikely." Jasmine fidgeted. "I don't think I'm his type."

Clary made an unhappy sound. "I think you're everyone's type," she said, surprising a smile out of Jasmine. Maybe the redhead wasn't so bad after all. She had a bad temper and an obnoxious attitude, but she was… well, a kid, really. She couldn't be much younger than Jasmine's sixteen years, but the fear that she might lose her mother had brought out the child in her. Jasmine felt for her. She, too, had lost a mother once.

Silently, she swore that she'd help Clary out in any way she could. They were Shadowhunters after all. They had the same blood of the Angel Raziel in them. They were sisters, in a way.

"What are we having?" asked Jace, loudly enough to startle Jasmine. She dropped the spoon she'd been holding and whirled around.

"A mini heart attack," she said. "Or maybe that's just me."

Jace grinned at her. "A little jumpy today, aren't we?"

Jasmine bent to pick up the spoon she'd dropped. "Well, we did just fight a ten foot tall Forsaken warrior," she said. "Or have you forgotten?"

"Things like that don't shake me anymore." There was an air of superiority in his voice, which Jasmine found oddly charming.

"Of course not, tough guy." She opened the refrigerator. "Potato salad."

Jace slouched against the counter. "What?"

"That's what we're having." She looked through the fridge's contents and frowned. "But there's no mayonnaise. Shit."

"Language, Jaz," Jace joked. "Kids might hear."

"I'm not a kid," Clary objected.

"Who said I was talking about you?"

Jasmine rolled her eyes and closed the fridge. "I'm going down to the store. We need mayonnaise to make the salad work. It's my grandma's recipe."

"You don't know any stores in New York. You'll get lost," Jace protested.

"I won't," Jasmine said. "I saw a grocery store on that street with the lights. The one with the alley."

"That's like every street in New York," Clary said.

"Fine. I know where I'm going, though. I'll be back in an hour or two. You guys can snack on peppers while I'm gone. There's plenty," said Jasmine, brushing past Jace. She had to get her wallet first.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Jace asked, following her down the hall.

"I'll be fine on my own," Jasmine told him. "Really. Oh, make sure you boil five eggs. I'm making potato salad for everyone." She turned to look at him, and accidentally ran into a thin figure. "Hodge," she gasped. "I'm sorry."

Jace snorted. "Such grace," he said. Jasmine glared at him.

"It's all right," the older man said with a kind smile. "I was just looking for you, actually. You and Clary. Jace told me you had an eventful afternoon—"

"Can this wait?" Jasmine asked in the politest way possible. "I'm really sorry, I just—well, there's no mayonnaise left in the kitchen and I'm… All right, nevermind. What were you saying?"

"I'll just talk to Clary, then," said Hodge. "I'm sure Jace would be glad to fill you in on what we've talked about. Excuse me." He calmly walked past the two.

"Well, what did you talk about?" asked Jasmine.

Jace stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "We think Valentine might be alive," he said.

Jasmine was not surprised. "Might? I'm pretty sure he is alive," she said. "But there isn't much he can do on his own."

"That's the thing. He might not be on his own. If he recruits the old Circle members—"

"Whoa, that'll never happen." Jasmine cut him off. "You know what happened to the old Circle members. Your father, mine, Hodge and the Lightwoods are good examples. They could have been executed by the Clave, but they cooperated with them. Kept themselves alive. They're not going to turn their backs on the Clave."

"What about the members that fled?" Jace asked.

"I doubt they're brave enough to plot against the Clave," said Jasmine. "There are probably about a handful left."

"You sound awfully sure."

"I'm just thinking logically." She glanced at the elevator. "I should probably get going before the shops close. I'll be back before it gets dark. I hope."

Jace shrugged a single shoulder and turned on his heel, before walking away. Jasmine did the same.

o000o

The truth was, there were plenty of corner stores in New York. Jasmine, however, chose to travel a little bit further and swing by one of her newly favorite book stores. The moment she got there, a truck sloppily parked in front of the store, and Luke Garroway stepped out, looking like he'd been hit by a truck himself. There were bloody scratches on his arms and hands, and he was bruised from head to toe.

"Jasmine," he said, freezing in surprise.

Jasmine frowned and moved forward. "Luke, what the hell happened to you?" she asked, placing a hand on his upperarm as if to steady him. He looked pretty steady to her, though. It was mostly just precautionary. "Are you okay?"

"Just fine," said Luke, though he had a slight limp. "We're closed right now, though." He stuck his key in the lock of the shop's door.

"That's all right," Jasmine said, edging closer to him. "Do you live with anybody? I'd hate to leave you like this…"

"I'll be fine…" he trailed off, seeing the look on her face. "But you can come inside if you'd like. I wouldn't mind some company." He stepped aside and let her through. "I live behind the store." She followed him to the back, passed through a door and ended in his living room, which looked almost as torn up as Clary's apartment after the attack. "Sorry for the mess," said Luke.

Jasmine shook her head and smiled sideways. "You should see my room. You look like a neat freak compared to me." She was exaggerating of course, but there was no harm in being nice.

Luke chuckled and sat himself down on his couch. "Make yourself at home," he said.

"Thanks." She tossed her hair back, because it was starting to stick to her shoulders, and blew upwards to cool herself. "You need anything? Like an icepack or… a wash cloth, maybe?"

"Most of my injuries are healing pretty well. But thank you."

Jasmine nodded. "Right. Isabelle said you were a werewolf."

"Couldn't you tell?" Luke asked.

She shrugged. "I saw your Marks before I could sense your Downworlder blood," she said. Her gaze fell on the boxes in the room. "Are you moving?"

"I was just… looking through some stuff," Luke explained, grunting as he changed his position on the couch. He was still in pain, Jasmine thought. How could he not be? He looked terrible.

"Luke, what happened to you? Was it demons? There's been a whole lot of them lately," Jasmine said, sitting down next to him.

"It wasn't demons." A flicker of hesitation passed over his face. "I fought with the leader of the New York clan."

"Why?"

"I needed his pack," Luke said. "The only way to lead one is to fight the original leader to the death. But you probably already know that."

Jasmine bit the inside of your cheek. "If you're still alive, then that means the other guy's dead, right? You killed him. Or her."

"Him," he corrected. "After I heard about Valentine's plans—"

Jasmine cut him short. "Valentine's plans? What are his plans? And how do you know about them?"

"All of Downworld knows."

Jasmine started biting the nail of her thumb, and she saw the ghost of a smile pass over Luke's face. "What is it?" she asked.

"Your aunt used to do that."

"Plenty of people bite their nails."

"Yes, but not everybody shakes their leg while doing it," said Luke knowingly. Jasmine stopped it immediately.

"You knew her very well, didn't you?" she asked. "My aunt Darya, I mean."

Luke's eyes flashed. "You could say that."

Jasmine narrowed hers. "Were you two involved? Like as a couple."

"It's somewhat of a long tale," Luke said. "She was a very passionate young lady. Beautiful. Full of heart, too. She would have given her life for any one of her friends."

"Meaning you?" Jasmine asked quietly.

"Me, and a few others. It always astounded me how somebody as fiery as her could fall at somebody's feet so easily."

"Whose feet?"

"Valentine's," Luke said. Jasmine suppressed a shiver. "She was smart, but blindly trusting, which is a quality that runs in the Sianoor family. Valentine pulled her in with his kindness, let her cry on his shoulder—"

"Cry on his shoulder?" Jasmine asked.

Luke nodded. "Valentine and I were very close once, so he came to me one night and told me—told me about Darya being so immensely heartbroken over someone. I was surprised at that. Darya was the type that could have anybody's heart if she set her mind to it. She had admirers all over Alicante, yet she was too blind to see it. Her heart was set on one man only."

Jasmine's eyebrows curved in pity for her deceased aunt. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Luke said quietly. "She had never told me this, and she was always so kind to everybody—not just me. I could have never guessed that she had feelings for me."

"If Darya was anything like I am now, then you were probably too blind to see it," said Jasmine. "I can hardly keep my thoughts and emotions a secret. I'm an open book."

"That must be a pain," Luke said light-heartedly. Jasmine chuckled and nodded.

"Sometimes."

"I probably _was_ blind to her feelings. Valentine convinced me to take her to his wedding as a date, and I did. There was no harm in—"

"Wait, Valentine had a wife?" Jasmine frowned.

"Yes he did. Jocelyn was one of Darya's best friends."

A scream echoed in Jasmine's head. It was the same scream she'd heard that afternoon, and the night before. "Jocelyn… Clary's mom?"

Luke's eyes widened behind his glasses. "You've met Clary?"

"Yeah, she's at the Institute now," Jasmine said. " _You're_ the Luke she called this morning? The one who told her to leave him alone?"

Luke seemed to flinch a bit. "It's for her own safety."

"Are you sure? Or is it for _your_ safety?"

"I don't expect you to understand. You wouldn't, unless you knew the whole story." He pushed his glasses up. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her you were here today."

Jasmine shrugged a shoulder. "Fine, I won't." She looked at the clock on the wall, and immediately started to her feet. "Crap, I was supposed to pick up a jar of mayonnaise and get back before dark."

"There's some in my refrigerator," Luke offered.

"You won't mind?" Jasmine asked.

Luke waved a hand. "The kitchen's over there," he said. Jasmine thanked him and hurried down the short hallway. The only things she could find in Luke's fridge were some carrots, raw meat and an unopened jar of mayonnaise.

"Something tells me you don't take great care of yourself," she said, walking back into the living room.

Luke laughed. "Find what you're looking for?"

Jasmine nodded. "Thanks again. I should get going, but it was nice talking to you."

"You too, Jasmine. Be careful, alright?" Luke slowly got to his feet and walked her to the front door of the book store. "Especially with Valentine around."

Jasmine smiled. "I will. The only person who frightens me now is my father. Here's hoping he doesn't find me until the Lightwoods get back from Idris."

Luke squinted. "You're losing me."

"Another time," she said. "If you don't mind having me around, that is."

"Not at all." The kindness in his smile made her want to reach out and hug him, the way Marielle made her want to hug her. She missed having an adult to rely on. "The Lightwood girl mentioned that you're new to this city. You should be fine at the Institute, but if you ever need anything—whether that'd be a cup of tea, or somebody to sit down with and talk to—you're welcome here. Though I doubt I'll be home much from now on. Leading a pack can be very time-consuming."

"I'll bet." Jasmine grinned, turned on her heel and walked out, the jar of mayonnaise in her hand.


	11. Chapter 11

**It's been too long since I've updated and I apologize. My computer was being a lil bitch. Here's chapter 11 for y'all! Guys I'm getting some great ideas for this story and I'm excited to write them out, so keep reading please!**

Everybody seemed to like Jasmine's cooking, which was a relief to her. Isabelle wasn't as enthusiastic as the guys, but she wasn't complaining either so Jasmine took it as a good sign. She'd made enough for everyone at the Institute, but she decided to eat after showering, since she didn't feel comfortable in her skin. She'd been sweating, fighting and rolling through dirt and dust, so nobody could really blame her.

She was aware of her trembling fingers, and hesitated for a moment. She had a history of fainting in the shower. Steam did something to her blood pressure, or blood sugar. She wasn't sure. But she wasn't planning on showering for more than five minutes. She just needed to wash off the filth.

She regretted her decision of showering _before_ eating about a minute in. She became weak and nauseous, and black dots swam before her eyes. She cussed and grabbed the wall for support. She was supposed to be a warrior, yet a little steam made her go weak in the knees. She turned off the water and called for help, because she was sure she'd be as helpless as a turtle on its back in a moment. Her wet hair dripped down her back, and her feet left trails of water on the bathroom floor.

"Isabelle!" She sounded as if her tongue were numb. She was hunched over, looking for the towel she'd brought into the bathroom earlier. "Clary! Anyone!" Her ears started ringing. She quickly wrapped herself in the big towel, and fell against the door. She shakily unlocked it and burst into her room, where she collided with a tall figure. She gasped and stumbled back. Her knees gave out, but a pair of arms caught her.

She had just enough energy to keep her towel up, but her eyes were closed. "Jasmine. Hey, you okay?" Jace said, patting her cheek. She pressed her forehead to the soft skin of the crook of his neck, and felt his grip on her tighten. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Low blood sugar. Pressure. Thing." She swallowed her nausea down.

Jace's chest spasmed with a single sound of amusement. "All right, up you go." He lifted her and sat her down on her bed. "I'll get you something to eat. Oh, and the next time you want to get my attention, there's really no need to starve yourself. A little sweet talk works wonders."

Jasmine smiled despite herself. "Shut up, I feel awful."

GJace chuckled, told her to sit tight, and left the room. Jasmine fell on her side, her breathing shallow. She just couldn't go a day without embarrassing herself, could she? Slowly, she felt herself slipping away.

She woke up to a slender hand on her arm and a pounding headache. The person squatting in front of her was Isabelle. She held a plate of the potato salad she'd made earlier, and a glass of water. "Thanks," Jasmine croaked, holding her towel in place as she sat up. She felt slightly better, as if her few moments of sleep had energized her somewhat. "Where's Jace?"

"He figured that you'd be more comfortable having me see you in a towel," Isabelle said, handing her a fork.

"There's really no difference." She took a bite. "I'm uncomfortable either way."

Isabelle snorted. "Why? We're family, aren't we? _And_ I'm a girl."

" _With_ a better body than me," Jasmine added as a matter of fact.

"You don't have to compete with me," said Isabelle with a shrug, but she was smiling proudly.

Jasmine drank down the glass of water in four big gulps and set the glass down on her bedside table. "So, what's new?" she asked.

"Let's see… We found out that Clary's mother was Valentine's wife. Yeah, let that sink in," said Isabelle. Jasmine didn't bother telling her she already knew. Instead, she just nodded and let her continue. "And we came to the conclusion that he's alive and holding her hostage."

Jasmine's eyebrows went up. "How romantic," she said. "So, what's the plan?"

"To find her," said Isabelle, inspecting a perfect fingernail. "Hodge wants to leave it to the professionals, but knowing Jace, I'd say he's too stubborn to accept that." She sighed. "All right, I'll let you get dressed. You're already looking less pale."

Jasmine nodded, thanked the other girl and watched her leave.

o000o

His eyes had been so full of heart, soul and life once. Now they were empty—startlingly empty. He was the same, but he wasn't. Jasmine heard a voice. "He belongs to me now," it said. She shuddered and spun around, meeting black eyes like bottomless pits. He grinned and touched her cheek. His touch sent a jolt through her, and suddenly she felt as if she were falling, but she stood in place. _Easy is the descent_ , echoed through her mind. She gasped and looked over her shoulder. Where Jace had stood only a moment ago, her father stood now, smiling crookedly. He had a feral look in his eyes.

He lunged at her, and she screamed. Terror washed over her. She felt herself suffocating, until she heard a soft sigh in her ear. Everything around her faded away, until all she felt was a pair of arms around her, and the humming of a young woman. Jasmine looked up to see a face as fresh as dew, two lovely brown eyes filled with love and serenity. The woman stroked Jasmine's hair. She had a golden glow around her. Jasmine heard waves rustling behind her. A name surfaced in her mind. _Darya,_ the Persian word for 'ocean'. Her aunt's name.

" _Dastat, Adrina. Be dastat negah kon_." _Your hands, Adrina. Look at your hands_ , Darya was saying. Jasmine looked down at her hands, and saw that they were glowing. "I'm here," said Darya, smiling down at her. But the voice wasn't hers. It was masculine, like… like Jace's voice. "I'm here," the voice repeated, and then Darya faded away, and Jasmine was staring into darkness. The darkness of her own room. She'd woken up with a cry.

Somebody shushed her soothingly. When the room stopped spinning, she saw Jace looking down at her in the dark. He sat on the edge of her bed with his arms protectively around her. His hair was tousled, and his eyes sleepy. He was frowning.

"Jace," Jasmine breathed, hearing the catch in her voice. Her lips quivered. She said his name again, and hugged him tightly.

"I'm here," he whispered, burying his face in her hair.

"Yeah, you're okay…" She sniffled, gave a silent sob and kissed his shoulder without thinking.

"Did you have a nightmare about me?" Jace asked. There was genuine concern in his voice.

Jasmine nodded. "Yeah, y-you were this—this thing, like an empty shell. Somebody had done that to you. I-I didn't recognize him, but he was..." Tears fell from her eyes in big fat drops. "He was a monster. A creature of Hell, disguised as a person." She knew that she probably sounded insane, but the vibe the boy in her dream had given her was that of somebody or some _thing_ out to burn down the world, to cause as much pain as it possibly could. "My father was there. He attacked me, and I screamed."

"You didn't just scream in your dream," said Jace.

"Oh. Did I wake you up?" Jasmine wiped at her eyes.

"No. I was supposed to go and wake Clary," said Jace. "Brother Jeremiah is here to see her. I walked past your room and heard you."

Jasmine blinked. "How do you hear me every time?"

"Well, for one, you're pretty loud," Jace joked. She chuckled. "Are you okay now?" he asked.

Jasmine nodded, and sat back slightly. His hands lingered on her for a second, and then he moved them up to her face, his long fingers disappearing in her hair. She felt her stomach clench with nerves. "Are you going to kiss me?" she asked, her voice less than even.

Jace's face was close to hers now. "Looks like it."

Jasmine breathed in sharply. "Don't," she said. Jace looked taken aback, but his eyes clouded over quickly, and he dropped his hands. He got to his feet in one fluid motion.

"I've got somewhere to be," he said, sounding resigned. Jasmine nodded, but kept quiet. He left the room and calmly closed the door behind him. Jasmine was less than calm. She was such an idiot. Why had he stopped herself? What could have been a good enough reason for her to interrupt what could have been a kiss with Jace. _Jace_ , of all people. The beautiful boy who had made her feel at home in a foreign country. The same Jace who had helped her conquer her fear of heights. She threw her head down on the pillow and muffled a scream. Things were going to be awkward from then on out, she was sure.

She thought of her dream. The unfamiliar boy with black eyes. Jace an empty shell of himself. Her father attacking her, and her aunt Darya saving her. Comforting her. She'd called Jasmine by the name Adrina. What could that have meant? Was it a code for something? Jasmine looked at her hands. They were no longer glowing, but her fingertips were trembling. Something was going on—something bigger than her. Something she didn't yet understand. She just hoped that she'd understand soon, or she might go insane.

With a sigh, she pulled the bed sheets up to her chest and attempted to go back to sleep. She tossed, turned and kicked, but nothing worked. So she got up, threw her hair into a ponytail, and washed up in the bathroom. When she was back in her room, the sun was already half-up.

Jasmine dressed into a pair of stretchy jeans and a white off shoulder top with wide, flowy sleeves. She charcoaled her eyes, dusted her face with some powder, blush and bronzer, and tied a bandana into her hair the way she'd seen old fashioned gypsies do.

She read out of Luke's book for a while, until she couldn't focus on the text anymore. She couldn't stop thinking about her dream, the visions from the day before, Jace's hands on her. Every time she thought about how close his face had been to hers, she made a tortured sound. It was a frustrating thing, to hold yourself back when you want something so badly. While she did eventually figure out the reason, it kept replaying in her head, and the more she thought about it, the more she regretted doing what she'd done.

New York was in broad daylight when Isabelle knocked on her door. "Jace called," she said, still in her pajamas. Even so, she still looked beautiful. "He wants us to get down to Taki's for breakfast. He and Clary are already on their way there from Bone City."

Jasmine wasn't sure if she was ready to see Jace again, but she guessed that she would have to eventually. Besides, she wanted to know if the Silent Brothers had managed to get some of Clary's memories back. "I'm dressed and ready," she said with a shrug. She snapped the book shut, making a photo fly out and fall to the floor.

"Well, I'm not. Alec's already gone. You and I are going there together," said Isabelle. "I'll be ready in a few minutes. Wait at the front door for me."

Jasmine bent to pick up the picture. "Will do," she said absently, turning it over. It was the picture Luke had put in the book for her to see. For the first time, she recognized one of the other girls in the picture. Jocelyn. The picture was of Jocelyn, Luke, Darya and another girl whose name was still unknown to her. Darya was looking at Luke with what she'd at first thought was friendly mockery, but now, looking closer, Jasmine saw the affection in her eyes. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Darya had loved Luke, but had he loved her back?

Jasmine got to her feet, put the picture on her nightstand, and went down to the front door, where Isabelle was supposed to meet her in a 'few minutes'. Those few minutes were just shy of twenty. They started down the sidewalk in silence, with Isabelle glancing at Jasmine every so often.

"What's up, Iz?" asked Jasmine finally, uncomfortable under the other girl's gaze.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," said Isabelle with a shrug. "Whatever you're thinking about, it's bothering you."

Jasmine smiled a little. "How can you tell?"

"You're blinking very fast."

Jasmine didn't know what to think of this, so she brushed it off. "I don't know what to tell you," she said truthfully.

"Tell me what's bothering you."

"Everything. Clary's situation, _my_ situation with my father… _Jace_." She said the last part quietly in the hope that Isabelle wouldn't hear her.

She heard her. "Jace? Why, what's he done?"

"Nothing. I mean, nothing to hurt me. It's just—I don't know what he's trying to _do_. Like, does he enjoy confusing me?"

"Possibly," said Isabelle. "If you want clarity, just talk to him. _But,_ if you're not ready to hear the truth, then avoid asking him anything. He's... painfully honest."

Jasmine blinked. "Wow. I didn't think you'd actually give me good advice."

Isabelle narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

Jasmine shook her head quickly. "Nothing," she said. She was not about to get on the other girl's bad side, that was for sure. Not that day, anyway.

"Whatever." Isabelle tossed her hair. "So, what are you confused about?"

Jasmine sighed and, once again, shook her head. "It's not important. Just silly stuff."

Alec, Jace and Clary had already found a booth to sit at. Clary was looking down at the menu with round eyes. "They have smoothies here?" she was saying.

"There's this apricot-plum smoothie with wildower honey that's simply divine," said Isabelle, and Jasmine remembered her first time at Taki's, when she and the other girl had ordered that exact smoothie. "Shove over," Isabelle said to Clary. The redhead scooted close to the wall, and she and Jasmine slid into the booth.

Jasmine was avoiding looking at Jace at all costs, but she could feel his eyes burning holes into her skin. She cleared her throat. "So, how did it go with Brother Jeremiah?" she asked, mostly talking to Clary.

"Yeah, did you find out what's in Clary's head?" Isabelle said.

"We got a name," Jace said. "Magnus—"

"Shut up," Alec hissed, hitting Jace with his menu.

Jace rubbed his arm. "Jesus. What's your problem?"

"Jace," said Jasmine, looking at him for the first time since arriving at Taki's. "Magnus? As in Magnus Bane?"

Jace's eyebrows jumped up. "Yeah. You know him?"

Alec shushed them aggressively. "This place is full of Downworlders. You know that. I think you should try to keep the details of our investigation secret."

"Investigation?" Isabelle laughed. "Now we're detectives? Maybe we should all have code names."

"Good idea," said Jace. "I shall be Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein."

Alec spit his water back into his glass, and Jasmine had to snort a laugh. The waitress, the same one as usual, approached them. Jace had called her Kaelie last time. She smiled, baring her sharp, needle-like teeth. "Know what you're having?"

Jace grinned. "The usual," he said, and Kaelie smiled at him. Jasmine frowned, but no one seemed to notice.

"Me too," Alec chimed in.

Isabelle ordered a fruit smoothie, Clary got a large coffee and coconut pancakes, and Jasmine muttered that she'd like a small coffee and a bagel.

"Is she an ifrit too?" Clary asked, watching the waitress go.

"Kaelie? No. Part fey, I think," said Jace.

"She's got nixie eyes," said Isabelle thoughtfully.

"Does it matter?" Jasmine murmured.

Jace nudged Alec. "Hey, let me out for a second." Alec moved aside with a scowl.

Jasmine watched Jace as he walked over to Kaelie, who was leaning against the bar. Kaelie smiled at him, and he put an arm around her. Jasmine's heart dropped. She exhaled, and dropped her gaze.

"He really shouldn't tease the waitstaff like that," said Isabelle. Jasmine felt a headache coming on.

Alec looked at his sister. "You don't think he means it? That he likes her, I mean."

Isabelle shrugged. "She's a Downworlder."

"I don't get it," said Clary.

Isabelle glanced at her with hooded eyes. "Get what?"

"This whole Downworlder thing. You don't hunt them, because they aren't exactly demons, but they're not exactly people, either. Vampires kill; they drink blood"

"Only rogue vampires drink human blood from living people," Alec corrected. "And those, we're allowed to kill."

"And werewolves are what? Just overgrown puppies?"

"They kill demons," said Isabelle. "So if they don't bother us, we don't bother them."

"So they're good enough to let live, good enough to make your food for you, good enough to flirt with—but not really good enough? I mean, not as good as people."

Jasmine looked at her. "Some might say that. I used to think it," she said. "But I've come to understand that it's stupid to think you're better than someone because of what they were chosen to be."

"Chosen by who?" Alec snorted.

Jasmine shrugged, thinking about Luke's book. "Something bigger than us. A higher power, some place where time doesn't exist. Just cycles."

"Makes for a nice story." Jace slid back into the booth, a stupid grin on his face. His hair was messed up and there was a lipstick mark on his cheek.

Jasmine felt sick. "Excuse me," she said quietly, getting to her feet. She nearly ran into Kaelie on her way out. Once outside, she leaned against the brick wall and doubled over. Her stomach was in knots, and her fists clenched.

She couldn't think of a legitimate reason why she was so upset. Maybe Hodge and Luke had been right. The emotions of a Sianoor were too strong.

People passing gave her strange looks, but she didn't care. She was mad. The first person to speak to her would get snapped at. She was glad when that person turned out to be Jace.

"You just had to create a scene, didn't you?" His tone was sarcastic, but it did nothing to endear him to her this time.

"Shut up," she said immaturely.

"You're cranky. I see you didn't get much sleep after I left last night," Jace said.

"I can't think of a reason why I would be losing sleep these days." She sounded as sarcastic as he had. "I didn't think Kaelie was your type. Do you just flirt with anything that has a vagina?"

"I don't have a reason not to," said Jace.

"Right." Jasmine nodded. "Here's a tip: don't freaking flirt with someone in front someone you almost kissed the night before. Not every girl's as forgiving as I am."

Jace scoffed. "Forgiving." He shook his head. "You didn't even want to kiss me. Why would you get upset over—"

"You don't get it, do you?" Jasmine hissed. "You don't get why I told you not to—Jesus Christ. Did you even stop to think about _why_ I might have stopped you?"

Jace glared. "No. I don't take rejection very well."

"Clearly!" Jasmine exclaimed. "You idiot! I wanted nothing more than for you to kiss me."

"Then why did you—"

"Because I was scared," said Jasmine. Her throat felt tight. "I'm still scared."

"Of what?"

"Of myself. Of my feelings for you. You're too easy to lose, Jace. I was afraid that if I let you kiss me, I might…" She took a breath. "Who knows how long I'll be in New York for? I could be sent back to Amsterdam, or halfway across the world to Iran. I can't do the long-distance thing."

Jace frowned. "You won't have to. I won't let anyone take you away."

"Jace…" She sighed. "You're seventeen years old. You might be one of the greatest Shadowhunters I've ever seen, but you're still a kid."

"I'm not a kid."

"You are in the eyes of the Clave," Jasmine said, sounding almost desperate. "Let's stop this—whatever this is—right now." Her chest tightened with every word. "It's better that way." Jace's eyes were hooded as he looked down at her. His adam's apple bounced when he swallowed. He didn't speak. Jasmine tore her eyes away from him and dropped her gaze to the ground. "I think I'm going for a walk," she said.

"You'll get lost."

Jasmine shook her head. "I won't. I know where I'm going." She waited for Jace to nod in approval, and then turned around, crossing the street without even bothering to check if any cars were coming.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry this update took so long guys! I just felt like I couldn't get this chapter right. But now I'm fairly happy with the outcome. Idk I hope it's okay.**

Luke, despite having mentioned that he'd be gone a lot, was at the book store. There weren't a whole lot of customers inside—just two. An older lady and a man who looked about thirty. They didn't even glance up when Jasmine arrived. Luke, however, waved acknowledgingly.

"Me again," she said, walking up to the cash desk where he stood. "Are you okay?" she asked, noticing the line between his eyebrows.

"Mostly," said Luke. "How are you? How's Clary?"

"Clary's… busy."

Luke pushed his glasses up. "Sounds serious."

Jasmine nodded. "Yeah, we think that there's a block on her memories. Not even the Silent Brothers could—" She bit the inside of her cheek and lowered her voice when the older lady started giving them funny looks. "Not even the Silent Brothers could get to them."

"I see. Where is she now?"

"Probably at the Institute or still at Taki's," said Jasmine, taken aback by Luke's lack of surprise.

"And why aren't you with her?" he asked her.

"She's in good hands." Jasmine leaned forward and propped her head up on the desk. "Alec, Isabelle and Jace are with her. They won't let anything bad happen to her."

Luke eyed her. "Good." He closed the book in his hands. "I'm curious to know, though, why you keep avoiding talking about yourself."

"I'm not."

"So if I asked you why you've been crying, you'd give me the truth?" He leaned on his forearms. "Your eyes are red," he added in response to Jasmine's raised eyebrows. "You really are terrible at hiding your emotions."

Jasmine sighed and straightened up. "I'm aware."

He smiled kindly and spoke in a hushed voice. "How about you walk through to the apartment and make us some tea while I take care of the customers?" he said. "I'll be with you in a few minutes."

Jasmine was grateful that out of everybody in New York, she'd met this lovely man. She nodded and walked around the desk to the door behind Luke. The living room was less messy than it had been the day before, but also emptier. Most of the boxes were gone, and so were a few photo frames. A green duffel bag sat on the arm rest of the couch, packed with a single photo frame. It was cracked, but you could still make out the three people in the picture. Luke, Clary, and Jocelyn, smiling at the camera. They looked so happy.

She put the frame down and went to the kitchen. She couldn't find anything to make tea with, so she decided to make coffee instead. God knew she could use some caffeine. She took two mugs out of an overhead cupboard and waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

She figured that it was going to be a damp kind of day when more tears soundlessly fell from her eyes. She sniffled and dried her cheeks. Pulling her hand away, she saw black streaks of mascara on the back of it. She used a paper towel to wipe the makeup off her hand and face, glad that she hadn't used her very white sleeve.

"Having one of those days, huh?" Luke asked, entering the kitchen.

Jasmine swallowed the lump in her throat. "I didn't think you'd be so quick," she said. "What did you do to the customers? Kick 'em out?"

"No, they left on their own."

Jasmine rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry for showing up all the time. I just didn't know where else to go."

"There's no need to apologize," he told her, gently. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

She took in his look of concern, and thought of her father. Would it have killed Amir to act a little more like a father and a little less like a child-owner? Had he ever loved her? He'd always been possessive, but it had been a controlling sort of possessive. He'd never shown care or concern for her well-being. "I needed a few hours away from the Institute. From the Lightwoods, from Clary. From Jace."

"And who's that?" Luke asked, more knowingly than curiously.

"Jace Wayland. He was adopted by Maryse and Robert Lightwood when his own father was murdered," said Jasmine.

Luke frowned. "Michael Wayland."

Jasmine nodded. She lifted the coffee pot and filled the two mugs with the steaming liquid inside. "Jace is everything I vowed to stay away from when I got my heart broken last time. Beautiful. Charming. Brave. Cocky. He's the kind of guy that keeps parents and teachers up at night. Basically, he's the complete opposite of me. I'm an anxious, sensitive little thing."

"Opposites attract, don't you know that?" Luke said almost bitterly, picking up one of the two mugs. "Go on."

Jasmine took the other mug by its handle and brought the rim to her lips. "He was the only person who accepted me into the group from the beginning. He never questioned me or my background once. He was never suspicious of me," she said. "He blindly trusted me, and I trusted him. We didn't have to communicate to be on the same page. It's like we knew each other before we _knew_ each other. I know that that must be what every other teenage girl says about her crush, but the thing is that I've been in love before, and yet I've never felt this way about anyone. It's exhilarating but scary, like jumping into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim." She took a careful sip of the coffee and grimaced at the bitter taste.

Luke smiled and reached into a cupboard for the sugar. Jasmine stirred in four teaspoons of the stuff, took another, more satisfying sip, and continued. "The first time I heard his voice—when we talked on the phone... I just, I felt so drawn to him, like a magnet. And then I met him, and I couldn't look away. It was the same feeling of hypnotising magnetism. That sounds so dumb, I know. Maybe I'm just blowing this whole thing up. It just, it doesn't make any _sense_ , you know? Is this all in my head, or is there really something there?"

"Only time can tell," said Luke. "Or maybe you already know it yourself."

"I doubt it." She shook her head. "It's been five, maybe six days since I met him. I don't think I know him well enough. I mean, I feel like I do, but thinking logically, there's no way."

"One thing I've learned from your aunt and four uncles is that logic does not go well with the heart and spirit of a Sianoor," Luke said. "Your father might be an exception, though."

"Oh, I know he is. Everything he _does_ is based off of logic and careful calculation. Rules. Discipline. Strategy." Anger bubbled up inside her, and she tightened her grip on the mug, burning her fingertips on the hot ceramic. "No wonder I couldn't stand living with him."

"Does Jace know how you feel?" asked Luke, gingerly taking the coffee out of her hands and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"I think he _did_ , until I ended things. I said that it was better this way. It probably is, though." She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "At least I know where we stand now. I won't have to keep guessing and hoping and wondering."

Luke shook his head. "You don't mean that," he said.

"Well, maybe not, but I can't lose him if I don't have him in the first place."

" _Now_ we're getting somewhere." Luke seemed pleased. "How do you know you're going to lose him if you don't take a chance? Why dismiss your feelings like this? Why throw away potential for a good relationship?"

"Because I'm crazy about him, and it sounds nuts because I've only known him for a few days, but I am. I have dreams about him. I mean, not even Lotte made me fall this hard, this fast, and she's about the most manipulative being on this Earth. If I let myself fall in love with Jace, then there's no going back. I could lose him, which could ultimately kill me. Plenty of Shadowhunters have died of grief and heartbreak. My grandfather passed away after my aunt Darya did."

"It's not impossible," said Luke. "Though I think that if you're worrying about falling in love with somebody, then it might be too late already."

Jasmine felt every word burn into her brain. _Too late_. She refused to accept it. With the way things were—Valentine on the loose, her own unstable situation, Clary and Jocelyn to think about, nothing was certain. She could lose everything in the blink of an eye. She was not going to fall in love with Jace.

Luke squeezed her shoulder. "Everybody goes through this."

Jasmine tried to smile. "Thanks," she said, and she meant it. Nobody except her mother and, though only recently, Jace had ever listened to her rant like that. Her mother had eventually killed herself, taking away Jasmine's shoulder to lean on. For a split moment, she wondered who would be the next person to abandon her, but she pushed that thought away. That was enough self-pity for one day.

Luke let her laze around his apartment for the day, but all she really did for the next few hours was sit on his couch and read out of the book God Is In Love With You. She felt much better by the time six o'clock rolled around. She closed the book, put it back on the shelf and looked around for a bit longer, when the doorbell rang. Jasmine had never been at the front door, but she found it quickly enough.

She recognized person waiting on the other side of the door to be Simon, Clary's friend. What was he doing there?

"Hello…" Jasmine said hesitantly. Simon was even more surprised to see her.

"Hi," he said, blinking curiously. He looked around, scratching the back of his neck. "I was sure I had the right house…"

"This is Luke Garroway's house," said Jasmine.

Simon stared. "Oh. Are you a friend of Luke's?"

"Yes, you could say that." She shook his hand. "I'm Jasmine Sianoor."

"Simon Lewis." He spoke slowly, as if he were confused or processing her words. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She smiled.

"I don't think I've ever seen you before, and I've known Luke for a long time," said Simon, though not so much suspiciously as curiously.

"Well—we only met a few days ago," Jasmine said. "Uh, come in. I'll go get Luke for you."

"Oh. Alright." Simon wiped his feet politely and stepped inside. Jasmine left him before he could say or ask anything else. Luke seemed to be closing the store up when Jasmine walked through.

"Someone's here. Simon."

Luke frowned and pushed up his glasses. "He must be here because of Clary." He breathed a sigh. "Alright, I've got it from here."

"I'll just… stay here," she said, watching him leave. She pursed her lips and pushed herself up on the desk. Absently, she opened one of the drawers and found a dagger. Jasmine always had one on her as well, stored under her clothes or a handbag. Currently, she had one slid into the back of her right boot.

She waited for a while, because while she'd planned on going back to the Institute, something told her not to leave. Call it what you will—an instinct, her intuition, a feeling. She was happy she stayed, though, but that was later...

Luke came back, looking disoriented. "I'm packing," he said unexpectedly.

Jasmine jumped off the desk. "What? Why? What happened with Simon?" she asked.

"I told him Clary was visiting a relative upstate," said Luke. "He left just now."

"Alright, good call. But why are you packing? Are you leaving?"

Luke exhaled. "I'm going to stay with the pack for a while. It's better that way," he said. "I could drop you off at the Institute in my truck if you're willing to wait ten minutes or so. I still have to pack a few more things."

"Okay." Jasmine followed him back into the apartment and watched him lock the door to the store. She waited in the living room, while Luke did whatever he had to do in his office. Her foot tapped nervously. She had a bad feeling in her gut. It only took a second for that feeling to be answered by a loud banging on the front door.

Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek and hesitantly went to open it back up. She hoped that it would be Simon, but something told her that that wasn't the case. Somehow, he had seemed too gentle to be pounding that hard.

The first thing she saw when she opened the door was two warlock cloaks, and harsh, masculine faces underneath. One had a white moustache and a slimmer build, but the other one was a freaking giant.

"Can I help you?" Jasmine asked, swallowing her fear.

"Perhaps you can," said the older one, grinning maliciously. He looked at his companion, who must have been three times Jasmine's size. His skin was purple, but Jasmine didn't sense Downworlder blood. Who were these men? "She looks a lot like Sianoor, doesn't she? The dead one—not Amir. Though they aren't unlike each other around the mouth. He'll be happy we've found the child."

Jasmine's blood turned to ice, but she said nothing. Had her father hired these men to look for her? She doubted it. How would they have found her? They weren't warlocks, and New York is a long way away from Amsterdam. How would they know exactly where to look? She was in a stranger's house, for Pete's sake.

"Your daddy is very angry with you," said the same man, slowly, as if he were talking to a child.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" She cocked her head stupidly. Her hands ached for a weapon of some kind; her dagger, or even a chair to slam over their heads if necessary. She hated feeling vulnerable.

The man's grin faded, and he looked at her in disgust. "Where is he? Where's Lucian?"

"I don't know a Lucian," said Jasmine. Did they mean Luke? She was so confused she wanted to scream. If her father had hired the men, and they knew Luke, then there was a connection there that she didn't understand. She knew that Amir and Luke had history, though not the kind of history Luke and Darya had had, but history no less.

The other man, the big one, was losing his patience. " _Where is he_?"

Jasmine shrugged and innocently kicked at the ground. "I don't know who you're talking about, mister. I'm sorry, I can't help yo—" She gasped when a hand came in contact with her neck, slamming her back against the door.

"That's _enough_ , Blackwell," said Luke sternly, having appeared behind her. "Let go of the girl."

The big one—Blackwell, was his name—released Jasmine, and she instinctively reached for the dagger in her boot. The one with the mustache grabbed her wrist and twisted it so that she dropped the blade to the floor. She gritted her teeth and jerked back. Some Shadowhunter she was. Couldn't even hold on to a damn weapon.

Luke reached out and pulled her back with a firm hand. "Get out of here," he said.

Jasmine frowned. "No, I'm not going to—"

" _Now_ , Jasmine." He let go of her, and she backed away. She ran into the kitchen, having seen a phone there that morning. She knew Luke had meant for her to leave through the door, but werewolves didn't tell Nephilim what to do, not while the Accords were still around. This was Clave business, too.

The phone looked somewhat like a payphone, except Jasmine didn't have to put in a quarter. She dialed the number of the Institute, which wasn't as hard to remember as she'd thought it would be. "Pick up, pick up," she whispered, bouncing on the balls of her feet. _One beep, two beeps, three—_

 _"This is Jace Wayla—"_

"Jace!" Jasmine exclaimed, sounding weirdly out of breath. "Get down here. Please. The book store. Manhattan. Luke—he's—there are two men. They're trouble, I can tell."

 _"Wait, hold on. Slow down, I can barely make out what you're saying."_

Jasmine knew she had an accent when she was worked up—something between a Dutch accent and what could sometimes sound like a numb tongue. She couldn't help it. "I need you," she said, doubting her choice of words the moment her mouth made the last syllable.

A pause. A voice— _Clary's_ voice, sounded in the background, but she was ignored. Jace spoke again. _"Alright, what's the address?"_

 **Soooo it looks like Jasmine's got some major abandonment issues. I feel for her tbh :'( I've been thinking about possible plotlines for the next couple of 'books' (you know, CoA, CoG, etc.) and I have some pretty good ideas, if I do say so myself ;)**

 **Please drop a review or sum' idk. I really like those ^^**


	13. Chapter 13

Jasmine's ear was pressed to the door that separated her from the three men on the other side. She was holding onto her dagger so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

"We know where she's hiding out now," said one of the men. "Don't try to protect her, Lucian. Why would you, anyway? She's nobody to you."

Luke said nothing.

"Or… is she?" the same man said. He sounded sleezy—mocking. Jasmine frowned, quieted her breathing and did everything she could to clearly hear the next words spoken.

"If you're implying that I'm seeing her, Pangborn," said Luke, "then you're even sicker than I thought. I'm old enough to be her father."

"I wasn't implying anything," said Pangborn innocently.

Jasmine wanted to burst through the door—she'd never been one, despite her anxious nature, to stand on the sidelines. Perhaps it was her Shadowhunter blood talking. A door opened somewhere in the house, and footsteps followed. Jasmine snapped her head around, praying to the Angel that Blackwell and Pangborn hadn't called for reinforcement.

She stepped back, twirled the dagger in her grip instinctively, and went to check. She walked down the hallway on light, booted feet. The moment she stuck her head around the corner, her weapon ready to be used, she saw three familiar faces. One of which flooded over with relief when he saw her.

Jasmine exhaled and before she knew it, she'd jumped into his arms and was squeezing him tightly.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Jace asked, looking her over.

"I'm fine," said Jasmine, pulling away. She looked at Simon, whose expression was something between confusion and exasperation. "What's he doing here? He's a mundane." She hadn't meant to sound hostile, but somehow it came out that way. She was too upset to care, though.

"He was hiding in Luke's bushes," said Clary, looking flustered. She wondered if Jace had made her run from the Institute to Luke's place. She sure looked like he had, and they'd gotten there fast.

"Nevermind him for a second," Jace said. "What's going on? Where's Luke?"

She pointed. "In his office. There are two men with him. I think my father sent them to look for me."

Jace looked alarmed, giving Jasmine the feeling that he wasn't about to let anybody get close to her. "How did they know you'd be here?" he asked.

Jasmine shook her head. "I'm not sure. My father must have tracked me down with a spell."

"Well, what do they want with Luke?" asked Clary, stepping forward.

"I don't know. They might be here for more than just me."

Jace took out his stele and moved down the hall without a word. Jasmine turned to Clary and Simon, putting a finger to her lips to make sure they didn't make a sound. "Stay here," she said firmly, before following in Jace's footsteps. She suddenly felt much more confident with him there.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he lifted his stele and drew a square on the back of the door. The square turned transparent, like clear glass. She could see Luke through the door now, but Jasmine knew that he couldn't see her. She'd learned how to make one of those one-way windows a few years back when Marielle was still teaching her how to use her stele.

Blackwell and Pangborn stood with their backs to the door, the hood of their robes pushed back.

"Warlocks," whispered Jace.

Jasmine shook her head. "They're not warlocks."

Blackwell turned his head, showing his face, and Jace tensed. Jasmine did as well, suspecting that Blackwell had heard them talking, but the man didn't look alarmed at all. He picked up a statue of Kali and looked at it. "Blackwell—don't touch that. It's valuable," said Luke.

"Luke…" somebody breathed behind them. It was Clary.

Jasmine glared. "I thought I told you to stay put."

"She has a habit of not doing what she's told," said Simon, standing next to the redhead.

Jace flicked his wrist stiffly, and the window grew in size. Clary gasped.

"They can't see us through it," Jasmine whispered. Simon had gone pale, but he nodded anyway.

"I suppose Valentine sent you?" asked Luke, grabbing Jasmine's attention. Valentine? How did Valentine have anything to do with her father at all?

"He did," said Pangborn. "He thought you might have changed your mind."

"There's nothing to change my mind about. I already told you I don't know anything. Nice cloaks, by the way."

"Thanks," said Blackwell with a sly grin. "Skinned them off a couple of dead warlocks."

"Those are official Accord robes, aren't they?" Luke asked. "Are they from the Uprising?"

Pangborn chuckled. "Spoils of battle."

"Aren't you afraid someone might mistake you for the real thing?"

"Not," said Blackwell, "once they got up close."

"Do you remember the Uprising, Lucian?" Pangborn asked quietly. "That was a great and terrible day. Surely it must have been more terrible than great for you, considering your… _loss._ Such a shame. She really was something else, wasn't she?"

Darya, Jasmine thought. He was talking about Darya.

Luke's face twisted. "I don't know what to tell you gentlemen. I can't help you now. I don't know anything."

"'Anything' is such a general word, so unspecific," said Pangborn. "Surely someone who owns so many books must know something."

"If you want to know where to find a jog-toed swallow in springtime, I could direct you to the correct reference title. But if you want to know where the Mortal Cup has disappeared to…"

"'Disappeared' might not be quite the correct word," purred Pangborn. "Hidden, more like. Hidden by Jocelyn."

Clary jolted suddenly, as if startled to hear her mother's name come out of a stranger's mouth.

"That may be," said Luke. "So hasn't she told you where it is yet?"

"She has not yet regained consciousness," said Pangborn. "Valentine is disappointed. He was looking forward to their reunion."

"I'm sure she didn't reciprocate the sentiment," muttered Luke.

Pangborn laughed loudly. "Jealous, Graymark? Everybody always thought you felt some kind of way about her. I'm sure even Darya suspected your feelings for Jocelyn."

Luke's shoulders tensed. Something in his calm demeanor seemed to crumble, but his voice was as apathetic as it had been before. "I've never felt any way about Jocelyn, particularly," he said. "Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you can see why we might have banded together. But I'm not going to try to interfere with Valentine's plans for her, if that's what he's worried about."

"I wouldn't say he was worried," said Pangborn. "More curious. We all wondered if you were still alive. Still recognizably human."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"You seem well enough," said Pangborn. He set the Kali statuette down on the shelf. "There was a child, wasn't there? A girl."

Luke looked taken aback, and if Jasmine didn't know any better, she'd say he paled. "What?"

"Don't play dumb," Blackswell snarled. "We know the bitch had a daughter. They found photos of her in the apartment, a bedroom—"

"I thought you were asking about children of Darya and mine," Luke interrupted. "Yes, Jocelyn had a daughter. Clarissa. I assume she's run off. Did Valentine send you to find her?"

"Not us," said Pangborn. "But he is looking."

"We could search this place," Blackwell added.

"I wouldn't advise it," said Luke coldly. "What makes you think she's still alive, anyway? I thought Valentine sent Raveners to scour the place. Enough Ravener poison, and most people will crumble away to ashes, leave no trace behind."

"There was a dead Ravener," said Pangborn. "It made Valentine suspicious."

"Everything makes Valentine suspicious," said Luke. "Maybe Jocelyn killed it. She was certainly capable."

Blackwell grunted. "Maybe."

"The girl—Jasmine. Valentine wants to give it time, but Amir is impatient. He gave us clear instructions to take her back with us," said Pangborn.

"She left already," Luke said.

"Don't worry, we'll find her," said Blackwell with a malicious grin.

"Well, until then—" Luke pointed. "—the door is right there."

Pangborn nodded at the duffel bag on Luke's desk. "Getting out of town, Lucian?"

"Going to the country. I plan to lie low for a while."

"We could stop you," said Blackwell. "Make you stay."

Luke smiled, transforming his face into something unlike himself. He looked predator-like. "You could try."

Pangborn glanced at Blackwell, who shook his head once, slowly. Pangborn turned back to Luke. "You'll notify us if you experience any sudden memory resurgence?"

"You'll be first on my list to call."

Pangborn nodded shortly. "I suppose we'll take our leave. The Angel guard you, Lucian."

Jasmine took Jace's arm and tugged, knowing full-well that he'd be reckless enough to stay and fight the men. She quickly closed the one-way window and stepped back. She motioned for Clary and Simon to follow them, and fast. The four of them hid in the small bathroom at the end of the hall until the sound of the closing front door signalled that the coast was clear.

"Clary?" said Simon, his hand on the redhead's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head without a word.

"Of course she isn't," Jace said sharply. "At least now we know why Valentine would send a demon after your mother. Those men think she has the Mortal Cup."

Clary pursed her lips. "That's totally ridiculous and impossible."

"Maybe," said Jace, stepping out into the corridor. "Have you ever seen those men before?"

"No."

"Lucian seemed to know them. To be friendly with them."

"I wouldn't say friendly," said Simon. "I'd say they were suppressing their hostility."

"They didn't kill him outright," said Jace. "They think he knows more than he's telling."

"Maybe," said Clary, "or maybe they're just reluctant to kill another Shadowhunter."

Jace laughed harshly, a sound that sent chills down Jasmine's spine. "I doubt that."

"What makes you so sure? Do you know them?" Clary asked.

"Do I know them?" He curled his lip. "You might say that. Those are the men who murdered my father."

Jasmine's stomach dropped, but she said nothing. There was nothing she _could_ say. She tried to remember when she'd told him about her mother's suicide. He'd held her hand, but he hadn't given her one look of pity. She felt that that was exactly what Jace needed then.

Except Clary beat her to it. The younger girl reached out and touched his arm. Jasmine, selfishly, glared a little, but quickly recovered when Jace shrugged off Clary's hand. "We should go," he said, turning his back on them. "We don't know when Luke might come back."

Jasmine, Simon and Clary followed him out the back door, and stepped into the dark of the night.

"Does anyone want to tell me where we're going?" Simon asked impatiently.

"To the L train," said Jace.

Simon blinked. "You've got to be kidding me. Demon slayers take the subway?"

Jasmine frowned. "He knows?" She supposed he'd seen things inexplicable to him in the past hour or so, but it hadn't occurred to her that somebody would have to explain it to him. She guessed that it would have had to be Clary, because both Jace and Jasmine were sworn to secrecy by the Covenant.

"Clary told him," said Jace.

There you go.

"All right, well how much does he know?"

"Does it matter?" asked Jace. "He knows enough."

"Can you guys stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Simon looked between them.

Jasmine exhaled. "We should warn the Clave."

Jace snorted, looking down at her as she put her dagger away. "Simon is hardly a threat."

"I meant warn them about Pangborn and Blackwell," said Jasmine, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. "And my father, too."

"I thought you said your father was dead," Clary snapped.

Jasmine shot her the meanest, coldest look she'd ever given anybody. "My father is dead. Amir _isn't_."

"What does that even mean?" Clary nearly shrieked. "And what were you doing here? How do you even know Luke?"

"Not that that's his real name," Jace muttered. He was ignored.

"It means that I don't have a father anymore, I have a burden. He's working for, or with Valentine. Either way, he's a traitor to his own kind," said Jasmine, blinking in annoyance. "And I'm not sure if what I was doing here is any of your business. Got any more questions?" She didn't quite understand where the tension between her and Clary was coming from, but Jasmine was ready to tear the other girl up. They had been fine before, but now that both of their worlds were crumbling beneath their feet, they were madder than ever.

Clary narrowed her eyes. "Several."

"You two are giving me a headache," said Jace wearily. "Let's go. I'm hungry." When neither Jasmine, nor Clary made a move to leave, Jace gently took Jasmine's arm and made her walk with him, though he didn't have to use much force.

Simon ended up coming with them to the Institute, something that made Jasmine inexplicably nervous. She'd dealt with mundanes before—heck, she'd been with one—but Daniel had known of the Shadow World before meeting Jasmine, being the twin brother of a vampire. She hadn't been responsible for… well, corrupting his simple mundane world. Simon was a different story.

"You live here?" asked Simon incredulously, staring up at the glamoured Institute. "But it's a church."

"We find it useful to inhabit hallowed ground," said Jace, getting out a key.

"I get that but, no offense, this place is a dump," Simon said. Jasmine almost smiled.

Clary sighed. "It's a glamour, Simon," she said. "It doesn't really look like this."

"If this is your idea of glamour, I'm having second thoughts about letting you make me over."

Another sarcastic little shit, Jasmine thought. She didn't mind people like that, but she suspected that he and Jace might not get along.

"I'm not sure you're quite sensible of the honor I'm doing you," said the blonde, fitting the key into the lock. "You'll be the first mundane who has ever been inside the Institute."

"The New York Institute," added Jasmine. "I've had a mundane over at the Amsterdam Institute. More than once, actually. My father wasn't too happy about it."

Church, the Institute's fat Persian cat appeared and stretched in front of Jasmine's feet. She squatted down and scratched inbetween the cat's ears. "Hey, Church," she said, smiling down at the animal, who meowed and leaned into her touch.

"I'm surprised he doesn't hate you," said Jace. "Church hates everyone. Except maybe me."

Jasmine shrugged. "Well, us Persians have to stick together," she joked. Jace snorted and crouched down next to her.

"Where's Alec, Church?" he asked, stroking the pet's fur. "Where's Hodge? Are they in the library?"

"I feel like you're trying to compete with me."

Jace gave her a sideways look, but said nothing. So much for joking around, Jasmine thought, getting up. She suspected that Jace was still a little bitter over the whole rejection thing, despite hugging her at Luke's. He was good at containing his feelings, that was for sure. He really was the opposite of her, in so many ways. Perhaps that was what had attracted them to each other.

Church shook himself, took a few steps away from the four of them, and looked over his shoulder. Jasmine giggled. "That is one smart cat," she said, being the first to follow him. She became aware that Simon, Clary and Jace were following as well when Simon spoke.

"How many people live here, exactly?" he asked.

"It's an institute," Clary said. "A place where Shadowhunters can stay when they're in the city. Like a sort of combination safe haven and research facility."

"I thought it was a church."

"It's inside a church."

"Because that's not confusing."

"It really isn't all that confusing," Jasmine interjected over her shoulder. That was all she had to say about it. She hated it when people were being unnecessarily difficult or flippant.

Church led them to the kitchen, where something was cooking on the stove. Isabelle stood in front of the pot, a wooden spoon in her hand. "I'm making soup," she said. "Are you hungry?" She looked behind Jace and Jasmine, and looked at Simon with dark eyes. "Oh, my God," she said. "You brought another mundie here? Hodge is going to kill you."

"I'm Simon."

Isabelle ignored him. "Jace Wayland! Explain yourself."

Jace glared at Church. "I told you to bring me to Alec! Backstabbing Judas."

Church rolled onto his back with a purr.

"Don't blame Church," Isabelle said. "It's not his fault Hodge is going to kill you. And _you._ " She waved the wooden spoon at Jasmine. "You're supposed to keep him from doing stupid things like this when I'm not around."

Jasmine scoffed. "Since when?" she asked.

"Since I've accepted you as suitable for the job."

"I'm not his babysitter. Jace does what Jace pleases, we all know that."

"I had to bring him," Jace said. "Isabelle—today I saw two of the men who killed my father."

Isabelle tensed. "I don't suppose he's one of them?" she asked, pointing the spoon at Simon.

"Of course not," Jace said. "Do you think he'd be alive now if he were?"

Isabelle looked at Simon with lazy eyes. "I suppose not," she said, absently dropping a piece of fish on the floor. Church bit into it like a hungry hyena.

"No wonder he brought us here," said Jace, a look of betrayal and disgust on his face. "I can't believe you've been stuffing him with fish again. He's looking distinctly podgy."

Jasmine stifled a laugh.

"He does not look podgy," Isabelle said defensively. "Besides, none of the rest of you ever eat anything. I got this recipe from a water sprite at the Chelsea Market. He said it was delicious—"

"If you knew how to cook, maybe I would eat," Jace muttered.

Jasmine thought of defending the other girl, but Isabelle's tongue was as sharp as the dagger in Jasmine's boot. She didn't need anyone to defend her. Isabelle glared at Jace. "What did you say?"

Jace seemed to regret his words. "I said I'm going to look for a snack to eat."

"That's what I thought you said."

Jace walked over to the fridge and started looking through its contents. Clary followed him. "I can't believe you're eating," she hissed.

Jace's response was calm. "What should I be doing instead?"

"I'm going to find Hodge," Jasmine said, approaching the two. "Anyone interested in joining me?"

Jace, who had retrieved a plastic container from the fridge, sighed. "Can't it wait?"

Jasmine blinked. "No. It can't."

Clary looked at him. "Don't you want to tell him what we saw?"

"I haven't decided yet. But if you two want to go so badly…" He calmly shoved the container back into the fridge and closed the door. "Fine."

"Where are you going?" asked Simon as they reached the door.

"To find Hodge," said Clary. "I need to tell him what happened at Luke's."

"Are you going to tell him that you saw those men, Jace? The ones that—" Isabelle was cut off.

"I don't know. So keep it to yourself for now," Jace said with a blank expression. Jasmine wondered if his tough exterior, the eerie calm he possessed when he had every right to be upset, was in his nature or if he'd been taught to be that way. Though she wasn't sure if something like that _could_ be taught.

She'd seen glimpses of the real Jace. Whenever he laughed, for instance, or the few times they'd sat in silence together, when their gazes would be locked, his vulnerability showed. Was it something about _her_ that made him feel comfortable enough to show what was inside? She remembered Jace's words from the other day. _"People are only as strong as they have to be."_

Isabelle shrugged. "All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?"

"No," said Jace.

"Do you think Hodge will want any soup?"

"No one wants any soup."

Jasmine laughed, shrugging apologetically when Isabelle glared at her.

"I want some soup," Simon said.

"No, you don't," said Jace. "You just want to sleep with Isabelle."

Jasmine frowned a little, her laughter gone completely. "Jace," she said quietly, so nobody else would hear. Jace pretended like he didn't hear her either.

Simon's dark eyes widened behind his glasses. "That is not true."

"How flattering," Isabelle said with a smirk.

"Oh, yes it is," said Jace. "Go ahead and ask her—then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation." He snapped his fingers. "Hurry up, mundie boy, we've got work to do."

Simon looked away in embarrassment. Jasmine's frown deepened. She wasn't happy. "Jace, stop," she said, shaking her head. "Since when are you such a dick nugget?"

He looked at her in surprise. "A dick nugget?"

Clary was even angrier than Jasmine. "Just leave him alone," she snapped. "There's no need to be sadistic just because he isn't one of you."

"One of us," Jace corrected. "I'm going to find Hodge. Come along or not, it's your choice." The kitchen door shut behind him.

Jasmine was quick to follow, eager to step out of the awkwardness that hung in the air.

"A dick nugget?" Jace repeated, leaning against the wall.

"Well, you are," said Jasmine, crossing her arms. "You didn't need to humiliate Simon like that…"

"I was trying to save him some pain. Isabelle will cut out his heart and walk all over it in high-heeled boots. That's what she does to boys like that."

"Is that what she did to you?" Clary said behind Jasmine, having joined them in the hallway.

Jace shook his head and turned to Church. "Hodge," he said. "And really Hodge this time. Bring us anywhere else, and I'll make you into a tennis racket."

Jasmine smirked. "See? Dick nugget."

The cat slunk down the hall ahead of them. Jace followed first. Jasmine and Clary walked next to each other, the atmosphere tense.

"Jasmine," said Clary.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. For snapping at you."

"Thanks."

"I mean it. I'm just… trying to figure things out."

Jasmine snorted. "You're not the only one," she said. "I know this must be tough for you and all, but at least your mother didn't turn out to be evil."

The redhead said nothing after that.

"Where's Simon?" asked Jasmine a moment later.

Clary's eyes clouded over. "With Isabelle. Does she always make dinner for you?"

"She tries," Jasmine said. "From what I've seen, anyway."

"Most of the time the Lightwoods are here and Maryse—that's Isabelle's mother—she cooks for us. She's an amazing cook," said Jace, joining the conversation.

"Then how come she never taught Isabelle?"

"Because," Jace started, "it's only been recently that women have been Shadowhunters along with men. I mean, there have always been women in the Clave— mastering the runes, creating weaponry, teaching the Killing Arts—but only a few were warriors, ones with exceptional abilities. They had to fight to be trained. Maryse was a part of the first generation of Clave women who were trained as a matter of course—and I think she never taught Isabelle how to cook because she was afraid that if she did, Isabelle would be relegated to the kitchen permanently."

"My mother was the complete opposite," said Jasmine. "She taught me how to cook and sew and clean, and occasionally she'd share her knowledge on herbs and healing methods. She didn't want me to fight."

"Then how come you fight anyway? What happened?"

"Well, when my mom died, there was no one to stop my father from training me," Jasmine said.

"It's in your blood, too. You want to fight," Jace said.

Jasmine shook her head. "Not really. I hate it."

"No, you don't. You hate the thought of it," said Jace. "Or maybe you're just insecure."

She shrugged. "I think it reminds me of him. My father, I mean. I know training does. Oh, it doesn't matter. There's really no excuse for me being a bad Shadowhunter."

Clary blinked in surprise. " _You're_ a bad Shadowhunter? I'd like to see a good one, then. When you killed the Forsaken warrior the other day—"

"I didn't kill the Forsaken. That was all Jace."

"Well, you helped fight it, didn't you? And that night at Pandemonium, you looked really freaking dangerous to me," said Clary. "You killed the shape-shifter. You jumped on that thing without hesitation."

"He would have hurt Jace," Jasmine said with a shrug.

"Again, I would have been fine," said Jace, looking at her with hooded eyes. "But Clary's right. You're capable of more than you think. I've told you that before."

"I'm capable of a lot when you're with me," Jasmine said softly. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but Church cut across him with a meow. The cat sat at the bottom of a spiraling staircase, waiting for the three teenagers to catch up.

"So he's in the greenhouse," Jace said. "No surprise there."

"The greenhouse?" Clary inquired.

Jace climbed the first step. "Hodge likes it up there. He grows medicinal plants, things we can use. Most of them only grow in Idris. I think it reminds him of home."

The girls followed him up the steps, Clary's shoes being the only ones making sound against the metal of the staircase, reminding Jasmine that the redhead hadn't had a day of training. They reached the top of the stairs, Jace using his shoulder to open one of the double doors. He waited for the girls to pass through, and let go. Jasmine smiled in thanks.

She recognized the smell of the greenhouse quickly. It was the scent of Amsterdam's grass fields in Springtime, of the forests Marielle would take her to for educational purposes, the scent of the country her mother was buried in.

"Idris," she said. "It smells like Idris."

"Like home," Jace added.

Jasmine looked around. There were trees, bushes and flowers everywhere. Fruits of all different colors, shapes and sizes. It was like something out of a fairytale. Back at the Amsterdam Institute, they'd had little plant pots sitting on the windows of the library. This was something else entirely.

On the bench a few feet away, Hodge sat with Hugo perched on his shoulder.

"You look like you're waiting for something," Jace said, breaking a leaf off a nearby tree.

Hodge startled a little. "I was lost in thought." He stood up. "I see Jasmine is back."

Jasmine returned his smile and crossed her arms casually. "I am, but not without information. The Cup wasn't destroyed after all. Jocelyn—Clary's mother—hid it. That's what Valentine's men claimed, anyway. I don't know if there was any truth to it, but…" She trailed off.

"Wait, Valentine's men? The Cup?" He held up a hand. "This might be easier if you took events in order."

"Right. Sorry. I spent the day at Luke Garroway's house. He's supposed to have history with my family or something. I met him when I first arrived in New York, a few days ago. Anyway, while I was there, two men knocked—well, banged on the door and demanded to see Luke, or Lucian, as they called him. Lucian Graymark," said Jasmine. "They were Valentine's men."

Luke paled. "And their names were…"

"Pangborn," Jace said. "And Blackwell."

"They were looking for the Mortal Cup," Jasmine said. "They were looking for me, too, but only partly."

"Why would they be looking for you?" Hodge frowned.

"Because my father and Valentine are working together," Jasmine said, her lip curling in disgust. Oh, how she hated Amir. She feared him as well, but the hate was stronger.

Hodge sighed. "It is as I feared," he said. "The Circle is rising again."

 **Guys I can't believe how much fun I'm having writing this story. It might not be the best on , but it holds a special place in my heart ^.^ Stay tuned for next chapter, where one of your (and my) favorite characters will make a *sparkly* appearance.**


	14. Chapter 14

Jasmine was oddly surprised to see Simon in the kitchen—she'd forgotten her was even there. Hodge, the Lightwood siblings, Jace, Jasmine, Clary and their newly gained acquaintance sat and had dinner, the conversation dead until Isabelle spoke.

"Well, I think it's kind of romantic," she said, in response to what she'd been told a few minutes prior.

"What is?" asked Simon eagerly. Jasmine cringed internally. He was so desperate for Isabelle's attention… Wasn't he supposed to be in love with Clary?

"That whole business about Clary's mother being married to Valentine," said the blue-eyed girl. "So now he's back from the dead and he's come looking for her. Maybe he wants to get back together."

"I kind of doubt he sent a Ravener demon to her house because he wants to 'get back together'," said Alec. Jasmine was happy to see him again, and she wasn't sure why. She'd brightened up instantly when he'd walked into the kitchen. She'd grown to really like the eighteen-year-old. Well, he wasn't eigtheen yet, but he would be soon.

"It wouldn't be my move," said Jace. "First the candy and flowers, then the apology letters, then the ravenous demon hordes. In that order."

Jasmine snorted. "No wonder you're single."

Simon snickered in satisfaction. Jasmine guessed that he probably didn't like Jace all that much, and even though she hadn't meant her comment (hell, there was no reason good enough for Jace to be single, she knew that much), but it had been worth the cheap laugh she'd gotten in return.

Jace lazily dragged his gaze over to her. "Are you sure that's the reason?"

Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek and awkwardly glanced away. No, that wasn't the reason. He could have been in a relationship, if Jasmine had just let him kiss her the night before. She was the reason why. When she glanced back up, she saw that Clary was looking between her and Jace with curious confusion.

"So why does Valentine want this Cup so bad, and why does he think Clary's mom has it?" Simon asked.

"You said it was so he could make an army," Clary said, turning to Hodge. "You mean because you can use the Cup to make Shadowhunters?"

"Yes."

"So Valentine could just walk up to any guy on the street and make a Shadowhunter out of him? Just with the Cup?" Simon leaned forward. "Would it work on me?"

Hodge squinted, as if to get a proper view of him. "Possibly," he said. "But most likely, you're too old. The Cup works on children. An adult would either be unaffected by the process entirely, or killed outright."

"A child army," said Isabelle softly.

"Only for a few years," said Jace insensitively. "Kids grow fast. It wouldn't be too long before they were a force to contend with."

"I don't know," said Simon. "Turning a bunch of kids into warriors—I've heard of worse stuff happening. I don't see the big deal about keeping the Cup away from him."

"You shouldn't ever turn kids into warriors," said Jasmine. "How would that even be remotely acceptable?" She frowned at Simon, who looked taken aback and maybe a little ashamed.

"Leaving out that he would inevitably use this army to launch an attack on the Clave," Hodge added, "the reason that only a few humans are selected to be turned into Nephilim is that most would never survive the transition. It takes special strength and resilience. Before they can be turned, they must be extensively tested—but Valentine would never bother with that. He would use the Cup on any child he could capture, and cull out the twenty percent who survived to be his army."

Alec looked horrified.

"How do you know he'd do that?" asked Clary.

"Because," Hodge said, "when he was in the Circle, that was his plan. He said it was the only way to build the kind of force that was needed to defend our world."

"But that's murder," said Isabelle, looking disgusted. "He was talking about killing children."

"He said that we had made the world safe for humans for a thousand years," said Hodge, "and now was their time to repay us with their own sacrifice."

Jasmine felt sick and furious at the same time. Her cheeks never turned red, not even when she was embarrassed, but they sure felt hot now. "Oh my _God._ That sick son of a bitch! Who gave _him_ the right to decide that for the world?!" Tears stung at the back of her eyes, but to hide them she covered her face, as if she were trying to calm herself down. Why did she have to cry all the time?

Hodge pushed his plate away. "Valentine was insane," he said. "Brilliant, but insane. He cared about nothing but killing demons and Downworlders. Nothing but making the world pure. He would have sacriced his own son for the cause and could not understand how anyone else would not."

"I need to punch something," said Jasmine, her breathing slightly more shallow than it usually was. Clary laid a hand on her shoulder, but it didn't help a bit.

"He had a son?" said Alec.

"I was speaking figuratively," Hodge said, using his handkerchief to dab at his sweaty forehead. "When his land burned, when his home was destroyed, it was assumed that he had burned himself and the Cup to ashes rather than relinquish either to the Clave. His bones were found in the ashes, along with the bones of his wife."

"But my mother lived," said Clary. "She didn't die in that fire."

"And neither, it seems now, did Valentine," said Hodge. "The Clave will not be pleased to have been fooled. But more importantly, they will want to secure the Cup. And more importantly than that, they will want to make sure Valentine does not."

"It seems to me that the first thing we'd better do is find Clary's mother," said Jace. "Find her, find the Cup, get it before Valentine does."

"That was the plan before. Why should it be any different now?" asked Jasmine.

"Actually, that wasn't the plan at all. The plan was to do nothing," said Hodge. "Leave it to skilled, experienced Shadowhunters. This is not just about Jocelyn anymore—it's about saving the human race. It wasn't a good idea to take this in our own hands before, and it especially isn't a good idea now."

"Hodge is right," said Alec. "Valentine is dangerous. He's one of the best there ever was. It took a huge battle to bring him down."

"And he didn't exactly stay down," said Isabelle. "Apparently."

"But we're here," said Jace. "We're here and because of the Accords, nobody else is. If we don't do something—"

"We are going to do something," said Hodge. "I'll send the Clave a message tonight. They could have a force of Nephilim here by tomorrow if they wanted. They'll take care of this. You have done more than enough."

"I don't agree with this," said Jasmine stubbornly, shaking her head. "This is our responsibility as well. Especially since my fa—Amir," she corrected, "is involved as well. I want to help bring him, well, them down."

"Sounds like somebody had a troubled childhood," Simon muttered. Jasmine felt her eye twitch in annoyance, but before she could open her mouth, Clary had shot him a warning look and he quickly looked down at his plate.

"Jasmine, I am not in charge of you so I can't tell you what to do, but I _can_ give you a word of advice. You are only sixteen years old. You don't stand a chance against Valentine and his men," Hodge said, not unkindly.

"Not alone, I don't," said Jasmine.

"What about my mother?" Clary demanded. "She can't wait for some representative from the Clave to show up. Valentine has her right now—Pangborn and Blackwell said so—and he could be…"

"Hurting her," Simon finished for her. "Except, Clary, they also said she was unconscious and that Valentine wasn't happy about it. He seems to be waiting for her to wake up."

"I'd stay unconscious if I were her," Isabelle muttered. Clary ignored her.

"But that could be any time," said Clary. "I thought the Clave was pledged to protect people. Shouldn't there be Shadowhunters here right now? Shouldn't they already be searching for her?"

"That would be easier," said Alec, "if we had the slightest idea where to look."

"But we do," said Jace.

"You do?" Clary asked quickly. "Where?"

"We start with Magnus Bane," said Jace, obviously pleased with himself.

Isabelle, who had been hunched over her plate, sucking tapioca pearls through a straw, suddenly straightened her back, her dark eyes big and alert. "It can't be—but I'm almost totally sure—" Isabelle got up and started digging through the purse on the counter. She pulled out a folded piece of blue paper. "Look at this."

Alec took it from her, unfolded it and shrugged. He passed it to Jace. "It's a party invitation. For somewhere in Brooklyn," he said. "I hate Brooklyn."

"Don't be such a snob," said Jace. Then, just as Isabelle had, he sat up straight. "Where did you get this, Izzy?"

"From that sprite at the Chelsea market today. He said it would be awesome. He had a whole stack of them."

"What is it?" Clary demanded impatiently. "Are you going to show the rest of us, or not?"

Jace turned it around so they could all read it. It announced a gathering at the humble home of Magnus the Magnificent Warlock, and promised attendees "a rapturous evening of delights beyond your wildest imaginings."

"Magnus," said Simon. "Magnus like Magnus Bane?"

"I doubt there are that many warlocks named Magnus in the Tri-state Area," said Jace.

Jasmine blinked. "The what?"

"New York, New Jersey and Connecticut," Jace explained.

"Does that mean we have to go to the party?" Alec asked.

"We don't have to do anything," said Jace. "But according to this, Magnus Bane is the High Warlock of Brooklyn." He looked at Clary. "I, for one, am a little curious as to what the High Warlock of Brooklyn's name is doing inside your head."

"Guys," said Jasmine. "I know Magnus. On a professional level, anyway. He helped me get to New York. He was in Amsterdam for business, and one of my friends introduced him to me. When he said he lived in the States, I asked him if I could Portal here with him. He didn't charge me too much. I think he felt bad for me or something."

"Wait, you're from Amsterdam?" asked Simon.

Jasmine nodded. "I must have mentioned that at least three times today."

"Oh. Well, that's awesome. Marijuana's, like, legal there, isn't it?"

Jace sighed exasperatedly, but said nothing. Jasmine didn't offer a reply, either. Simon's question had been so out of place and just plain dumb that it left her speechless.

"So, we could just knock on his door tonight?" asked Clary.

"We could," said Jasmine. "I don't think he'd be happy about it, but we could. But if you're willing to wait a day, then we'll just go as guests at the party tomorrow."

"The latter sounds like a better option," said Jace. "He might offer us more information that way."

"Alright, so that's that," said Alec, looking only half-satisfied.

"So, what do we do tomorrow? During the day, I mean," Jasmine said to no one in particular. "I was going to go shopping for—"

"I'll come with you," said Isabelle quickly. "I mean, I don't have anything else to do. Might as well keep you company."

"You do have money on you, don't you?" asked Hodge. "If you don't, I could ask the Clave to support you financially."

"I've got money on me," said Jasmine. "But it's in Euros…"

"I'll give you some money on behalf of the Institute," said Hodge.

Jasmine smiled gratefully, and turned to Clary. "Since it's a girl thing, _typically_ , to go shopping together—would you like to come?"

Clary looked taken aback. "Me? Uh, I don't know… I'd rather go back to Simon's place. You know, take a break from all this."

Jasmine shrugged. "It's up to you," she said. "But, I don't know, it might be dangerous to go around the city on your own now that Valentine's looking for you."

"She won't be on her own," said Simon. "I'll be with her."

"Like you'd stand a chance against demons," muttered Alec.

"Whatever, just take a weapon with you. Just in case," Jasmine said. "If you change your mind, we leave tomorrow morning."

Clary turned to Simon. "Is it all right if I spend tonight at your place?" she asked.

"Of course. You know you're always welcome," Simon replied. Isabelle rolled her eyes.

o000o

The next morning, Isabelle was dressed and ready to leave before Jasmine was even properly awake. To kill time, Isabelle went down to the library to get the money from Hodge while Jasmine took a shower. The curly-haired girl left her face bare for the day, and dressed in pants and her dark red, quarter-sleeved top. She slid her stele into the tight pocket of the pair of skinny jeans, and hid her dagger in her right combat boot.

The two girls took the subway to Manhattan, having decided to get breakfast in the city. Isabelle seemed to be glowing, which was something to see, honestly. She looked genuinely happy, and Jasmine wondered if it was because she finally had a… well, a friend to share the 'joy' of shopping with. Girl time. It was such a mundane thing, but Shadowhunters, though part angel, were still human.

They walked the streets of Manhattan, looking for a coffee shop, or a bakery. As they paid for their breakfast—Isabelle for a waffle and a tall cup of coffee, and Jasmine for a buttery croissant and freshly squeezed orange juice—conversation started flowing.

"I'm starting to get used to this life," said Jasmine light-heartedly. "I mean, with you guys. I think leaving will be difficult."

"Do you have to leave?" asked Isabelle casually as she bit into her waffle.

"I don't think I have a choice," said Jasmine with a sigh. "Now that my father is the enemy, I'm definitely not going back to Amsterdam—unless somebody else takes over the Institute. The Clave might decide that I'd be better off living somewhere else. Somewhere in Asia, or Australia. As far away from Idris as possible, or as close as possible. I don't know. They probably want to keep an eye on me, though. To use me as bait, or get information."

"My mother might want to take you in," said Isabelle. "You know, being your aunt and all."

"The Consul might not let her." She shook her head.

"Well, what if we found a way to make you stay?"

Jasmine's eyebrows arched. "I'm open to suggestions."

Isabelle cast her eyes skyward. "Oh, I don't know… Become my _parabatai_?" she joked.

Jasmine grinned. "Awesome idea," she laughed.

Isabelle's grin faded and her eyes rounded slightly. "Really, though. They can't separate _parabatai,_ " she said, and now Jasmine's laughter was gone as well.

"Iz… No, you can't be serious. Being somebody's _parabatai_ is heavy. It's for life."

"Well, you're my cousin," said Isabelle. "Blood is for life, too."

Jasmine snorted. "Have you forgotten about my father?"

"Well, there are exceptions…" Isabelle blew a piece of hair out of her face. "I'm serious. It's just a rune. I didn't plan on being anybody's _parabatai_ anyway, so it's not like I'm wasting a chance. If we're _parabatai_ , then no one can take you away."

Jasmine thought about it. "It's not a bad idea, but it's a big decision. Are you sure about this?"

Isabelle shrugged and sipped her coffee. "Eh, I guess."

Jasmine's laughter was back. "Alright, then I guess I'm here to stay."

o000o

Jace and Alec were in the weapons room, doing… well, nothing in particular. They were mostly just fooling around with bows and arrows and seraph blades. Marking regular daggers, testing out steles, etc. They had been in that room since ten o'clock, it being four in the afternoon at the moment. Alec kept looking over at Jace every so often, opening his mouth as if to speak, but then closing it.

" _What_?" Jace drawled, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, I was just—" Alec cut himself off. "It's nothing."

Jace shrugged, and focused back on the short sword in front of him. Alec sighed, shook his head, and tested the chord of the bow at hand.

A giggle—a familiar giggle—was heard outside the door. Two figures entered the room, both grinning from ear to ear. Jace was surprised to see Jasmine and Isabelle getting along like sisters. Well, sisters who liked each other. Not the kind of sisters who lived to get under one another's skin.

Isabelle never played nice with other girls, especially pretty ones, but with Jasmine everything seemed different—not just Isabelle's attitute.

It was no wonder Jace hated the way she was distancing herself from him. He'd never met anyone like her. She was something else, the way Pangborn had described her aunt Darya to be something else. Jasmine was a gentle soul with a serious attitute, but she was sassy when he'd least expect it. She was a hardhead, but also easily persuaded when it came down to it. She was sensive, but strong and motivated. She was all kinds of things.

Apparently, she was also a big spender.

Jasmine was carrying four shopping bags in one hand, and two in the other. None too small. Jace wondered how much money Hodge had given her.

"You're back," said Alec.

"Indeed we are," said Isabelle airily.

"I see you've bought all of Manhattan," Jace deadpanned, taking one of Isabelle's many bags. Inside it was black lace lingerie. He handed it back to her, deciding that he'd seen enough.

"Yeah, we were thinking about buying Brooklyn as well, but we ran out of money," Jasmine laughed, her eyes glittering under the harsh TL lights of the weapons room. "Anyway, I just came to say hello. I'm going back to my room now. Change into gear."

"You going to the training room?" Jace asked before he could stop himself.

Jasmine nodded. "Yeah, I need to keep up the physical activity." She made a move to leave. "I'll see you guys later."

The three teenagers stood in silence for a good three seconds, until Jace breathed in sharply. "Well," he said, "there's no point in letting her train alone. She probably needs someone to—"

"Just go," said Alec wearily, shaking his head. "You don't need to make excuses."

Jace grinned. "I was only informing you," he said innocently.

"Sure," said Isabelle, rolling her dark eyes.

Alec mumbled something under his breath, but Jace didn't catch what it was, because he was already in the hallway, on his way to the training room.

 **OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY. I KNOW I PROMISED YOU MAGNUS BUT I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT IT WOULD TAKE MORE THAN 3300 WORDS. I promise he'll be in the next chapter. Also, yay. Good for me for writing this chapter so fast. Usually it takes me multiple days. I wrote this one in an hour or so.**

 **Woop woop pls reviewww :***


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm sorry for disappearing again, but I was in Ireland for the past week and I had no access to the Internet or even my laptop. So yeah. The good news is that I've gotten tons of ideas for this story from just visiting the cliffs of Moher. Or Mohar. Anyway, here's chapter 15.**

The reflection staring back at Jasmine was different than she remembered. For one, her face was smaller, and slightly more angular than before. Even though it was still round, her cheekbones were starting to show, and her jawline was more prominent. Her mouth was slightly more defined, and her limbs were slimmer. She was growing up. Sixteen was the year she would finally grow up. It wasn't a bad thing—not at all.

But if she continued to lose weight, her Shadowhunter gear would have to be replaced.

It was strange how little she resembled Noella—her mother. She didn't feel like a Trueblood, either. She was a Sianoor, inside and out. The only thing missing was a Sianoor ring, which Amir had promised to give her when she turned eighteen (not that she thought that was going to happen after everything she'd found out about her father). But she wanted it now. She wanted to feel closer to her roots, and the Sianoor name was all she had.

She took a breath and turned away from the mirror, before leaving her bedroom.

As she made her way up to the attic, she thought about Isabelle's suggestion of becoming _parabatai._ It was genius, but also insane. They'd known each other for, what, a week? It clicked between them, sure, but it would create a bond which was, spiritually, unbreakable. They would have to fight alongside each other for the rest of their lives.

It was worth it, though, if it meant that she got to stay in New York. A grin spread on her face when she realized that staying in New York meant staying with Jace, which ultimately meant that she could forget her fear of losing him to distance.

She had to tell him. She'd talk to him at Magnus's party, or maybe after. Sometime soon, anyway.

If she'd had the balls, she would have tried to talk to him the moment she saw him in the training room, sitting cross-legged on a beam of twenty feet high. But she couldn't bring herself to speak.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he said, graciously getting to his feet. She smiled nervously.

"I was trying out the clothes I bought today," she explained. "See if they still looked all right on me."

"And?"

"They looked fine," she said with a shrug. "So, are you going to get down from there, or…?"

Jace grinned and jumped, startling a gasp out of Jasmine. She'd expected him to fall on his face and break his neck, but he caught another, lower beam, changing his direction. He pushed himself off a wall with his feet, did a somersault and landed perfectly, with only a strand of fine, blonde hair out of place.

Jasmine let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Show-off," she mumbled. She heard the relief in her own voice.

"What, that? That was nothing," said Jace, and Jasmine rolled her eyes.

"For you, maybe," she said.

"There's no need to be jealous. Not everybody is born amazing."

Jasmine snorted. "Unfortunately," she said sarcastically. "Can I start training now?"

"Sure. Think fast." He grabbed her arm and spun her so that he now stood behind her, twisting her arm.

"Dude!"

"I said think fast," Jace repeated.

"Well, I apologize for not expecting you to _attack me_!"

He let go of her, and she rubbed her arm, glaring sourly. "You are forgiven," said Jace. "Now, show me what you can do."

Jasmine cast her eyes skyward, pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, and rolled her shoulders back. "If you insist," she said, and went to grab her seraph blade.

"Ah, ah," said Jace, wiggling an annoying finger. "No weapons. Use your body."

She bit the inside of her cheek, and sighed. "Go easy on me," she said, before attempting to tackle him to the floor. She groaned when he grabbed her waist and threw her over his shoulder, her back hitting the ground. "I said go easy on me!"

"The enemy will not go easy on you either," Jace said, nudging her hip with the toe of his boot. "Get up."

She narrowed her eyes to slits. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Jace smiled down at her, his eyes glinting. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, looking as if he were about to laugh.

The corners of her mouth curved up, and without a warning, she lashed out with her foot and kicked him off his feet. Jasmine cackled at the sight of him rubbing his behind. "Payback!" she exclaimed, sitting up.

Jace pulled her ankle, making the back of her head hit the floor. She turned over on her stomach, and was about to get up, when Jace pulled again. She let out a squeak of protest and fell flat on her face. She didn't bother trying to get up, which, apparently, worried Jace.

"Hey, are you hurt?" he asked, scooting closer to her. "I didn't—"

She tackled him again, this time getting it right. They rolled together until Jace was on top. He stared down at her face quietly, something flickering behind his eyes. Jasmine didn't let herself be distracted.

She linked her ankles behind his back and brought his head down with her hands, using her core to flip them over. She realized that she was playing dirty, but that was what girls did, wasn't it? Jace's eyes were wide, his Adam's apple bouncing as he lay on his back.

She smiled. "How am I doing?"

"Fine."

Jasmine pulled out her dagger, and held it at his throat. "How about now?" she asked.

"Better," he said. "But my hands are free." He placed them under her thighs, and jerked hard enough to throw her back. She dropped the dagger with a clang, and fell on her side. Jace got to his feet, and offered her a hand.

"Thanks," she said, allowing him to pull her up.

"You're technique is sloppy," said Jace. "But that's not a bad thing, per se. It might catch your opponent off-guard."

"I guess."

"Hey, don't make that face," he said in an attempt to cheer her up. "You're good, just not quick. But you're tough."

She smiled tightly and pushed back a couple of stray curls. When neither of them spoke, Jasmine decided that that was the best time to tell him. "Isabelle had this brilliant idea," she started. "And if it works out, I might be able to stay in New York."

Jace's eyebrows jumped up. "Do tell."

"We're going to be _parabatai._ "

"You and Izzy?" he said. She nodded. "You know that's a life-long commitment, right?"

She nodded again. "Yeah, I know. I read all about it when I was a kid."

Jace rubbed the back of his neck. "If the two of you are sure about your decision, then I say do it. You seemed to be getting on well. And you're cousins, after all."

"That's what Izzy said, too." Jasmine smiled a little. "Think aunt Maryse will be all right with it?"

"She can't stop you, even if she isn't," said Jace with a shrug.

"Good. And, uh, remember what I told you yesterday morning?" asked Jasmine. She took his silence as a yes. "Well, forget it. Forget everything I said. It was stupid to push you away, even if I was afraid of the future."

"Was?" The corner of his mouth curved up. "So you're not afraid anymore?"

Jasmine looked down at his hand, and reached for it. "I'm working on it."

He laced his warm fingers through her freezing ones, and brought their linked hands up to his face. He gently held the back of her hand against his cheek, the tawny color of his eyes darkening with an emotion Jasmine couldn't place—no one had ever looked at her like that before. She closed her eyes and put her forehead against his shoulder, wrapping her free arm around his waist.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, until Jasmine heard a voice. It was light, subtle and mostly inside her head. _"Open your eyes, darling,"_ it said, sending chills down her spine. She recognized the voice, but only after hearing it repeat the words.

 _"Open your eyes,"_ said Darya again, more lovingly this time.

Jasmine was really confused for a second—confused and mildly terrified. Had she just heard a dead woman?

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Jace placing his hand under her chin. The moment she looked up at him, his lips were on hers, and with a sound of approval, she melted against him, her eyebrows curving welcomingly. She wondered how she'd gone so long without the touch of Jace's steady hands, without the radiating warmth of his skin. Their lips didn't move—they just stuck together like puzzle pieces.

Jasmine had expected Jace to be a little rougher, a little less… unmoving. But it was as if he were stuck in time; frozen. She knew she was, anyway. She couldn't even bring herself to move her hands.

When they finally broke away, it was because somebody cleared their throat behind Jasmine's back. She turned around to see Isabelle standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said. She turned her back on them. "But there's Chinese takeout in the kitchen if you're hungry." She walked out, shaking her head in what seemed like amusement.

Jasmine blew her hair out of her face and turned to Jace, her eyebrows raised questioningly.

Jace shrugged in response, and followed in Isabelle's footsteps, only looking back to see if Jasmine was coming. She was.

o000o

Clary arrived at the Institute with Simon at nine o'clock. Jasmine hadn't expected to see Simon back there anytime soon, yet there he was, looking as sheepish and doe-eyed as usual. Jasmine respected him, in a way, because while he knew he was not welcome at the Institute (in Alec and Jace's eyes, anyway), he'd still shown up as Clary's moral support.

Currently, it was half past nine, and Isabelle was plucking Jasmine's eyebrows. Clary and Simon sat on the Lightwood girl's bed, Simon a lot stiffer than his redheaded friend.

"Does that hurt?" he asked awkwardly.

Jasmine shrugged. "It would probably hurt you more than me," she said. "Guys in general aren't used to this sort of pain. Waxing stings like a bitch, though."

"Stop _moving_ ," Isabelle hissed, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Or do you want to end up with patchy eyebrows?"

"I'll stop moving."

Less than a minute later, Isabelle removed her hands from Jasmine's hair and face, and stepped back with a smile. "Done," she said in a high-pitched voice. Jasmine turned to look in the mirror of Izzy's vanity, and nodded in approval. She looked the same, mostly. A little more presentable, but still the same.

When it was time to change, Isabelle suggested that Simon go and join the guys. Reluctantly, he left the room, and the girls turned to Clary.

"Did you bring a dress?" asked Jasmine.

"I was just going to wear this," Clary said.

Jasmine looked down at the redhead's clothes and grimaced. "Jeans and a t-shirt? Really?"

"Is that a problem?"

Isabelle felt her own forehead, looking faint. "Is that a problem?" Isabelle repeated. "Of course it's a problem! No Downworlder would wear those clothes. And it's a party. You'll stick out like a sore thumb if you dress that… casually." She said the last word as if it were an insult.

"I didn't know we were dressing up," Clary said. "I don't have any party clothes with me."

"You could borrow mine," said Jasmine with a shrug. "I don't know if my clothes will fit you, but…"

"You don't have any party clothes either," Isabelle protested.

"I got that little red dress today."

"Oh, yeah," said Isabelle, remembering.

"I'll be right back," said Jasmine, walking out. Her own bedroom was maybe ten steps away from Isabelle's, so she got there quickly. The dress she'd been talking about was a tight little thing with short sleeves and a golden belt. It would probably be a little less fitting on Clary than it had been on her, but if _her_ clothes were too big on the redhead, Isabelle's would be too.

Jasmine quickly changed into her own newly-bought dress—a low-cut, tight, metallic gold dress with long sleeves—and slipped into ruby red pumps. Isabelle had practically forced her to buy the thing.

"It _so_ brings out your eyes," she'd said. "You look like an Arabic gypsy, if that's even a thing."

Jasmine had only glared. "I'm Persian—not Arabic."

Back in Isabelle's room, the Lightwood girl was slapping a bunch of makeup on Clary's face. Powder, eyeliner, and tons of glitter.

"Go easy on the glitter," Jasmine joked. "Or she'll look like a disco ball."

"I know what I'm doing," Isabelle said, giving her an annoyed look. She pointed. "I laid out some earrings for you."

Jasmine put Clary's dress down and picked up the earrings—two simple rubies which would go great with her outfit.

"I'll do your makeup after I'm done with Clary," said Isabelle. "I'll make you look like Cleopatra herself."

"I was just going to wear some mascara."

Isabelle sighed dramatically. "You two are just impossible. You go to a party, you dress for it."

"I _am_ dressed for it," said Jasmine.

"Makeup included!"

Jasmine threw her hands up. "Alright, alright. Damn."

o000o

Jace had only smiled upon seeing Jasmine in her fancy getup, his eyes travelling from her dolled-up face, down to her bare legs which she'd always been so self-conscious over. The guys had given Simon some clothes to wear, but they looked bizarre on his back. Too Shadowhunter-like for a mundane as regular as Simon Lewis.

Jasmine and Jace walked ahead of everyone, Jasmine being the only one who knew where Magnus actually lived. They'd gotten lost somewhere in the beginning, but once they reached Brooklyn, she found the way.

"Tell me something," said Jace. "If your father is Persian, and your mother was from Idris, what language did they use to talk to you? You seem to know every language you ought to, as a mixed-race Shadowhunter."

Jasmine looked at him in surprise. His question couldn't have been more random if he'd tried. "Uh, my father spoke Farsi all the time, and my mother knew Farsi too, but she mostly used English. Marielle taught me Dutch, and I learned German and a little bit of French on my own."

"Your mother knew Farsi?"

"Yeah, my paternal grandmother taught her. She taught my mom how to speak, cook and act like any other Iranian woman. Mom always did everything she could to keep my father happy."

"That must have been exhausting."

Jasmine smiled a little, but offered no response.

"Jace!" Alec called.

The blonde turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Think we're in the right place?" Alec was pointing at a row of motorcycles, which had undoubtedly been touched by magic. They looked almost alive.

"Vampires," Jace said.

"They look like motorcycles to me," said Simon, joining them. Izzy, who was walking at his side, frowned.

"They are, but they've been altered to run on demon energies," she explained. "Vampires use them—it lets them get around fast at night. It's not strictly Covenant, but…"

"I've heard some of the bikes can fly," said Alec eagerly, like a child with a new toy. "Or go invisible at the flick of a switch. Or operate underwater."

Jace detached his hand from Jasmine's and walked around the motorcycles, examining them. At least, that's what it looked like at first. He seemed to be sprinkling water over the bikes. It was only when Jasmine saw the container in Jace's hand that she realized it was holy water. She laughed soundlessly and turned away, deciding not to call him rude, even though she thought it.

"What are you doing?" asked Clary.

"Nothing."

"Well, hurry up," said Isabelle. "I didn't get this dressed up to watch you mess around in the gutter with a bunch of motorcycles."

"They are pretty to look at," said Jace, hopping back up on the pavement. "You have to admit that."

"So am I," said Isabelle, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Now hurry up."

Jace was looking at Jasmine. "This building," he said, pointing at the red brick warehouse. "Is this the one?"

Jasmine nodded. "Yeah, this is the one."

Isabelle strode up the steps and pressed the buzzer. Nothing happened. She pressed again. Alec stopped her from pressing a third time. "Don't be rude," he said, catching her wrist.

She only glared.

The door opened, and before them stood the one and only Magnus Bane. His eyes traveled over to Jasmine. He cocked a surprised eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Magnus," said Jasmine.

"That would be me," he said dryly. "Children of the Nephilim. Well, well. I don't recall inviting you."

Isabelle took out her invitation and waved it in front of him. "I have an invitation. These"—she indicated the rest of the group with her arm—"are my friends."

Magnus took the invitation out of her hand and looked at it with a curled lip. "I must have been drunk," he said. He threw the door open. "Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests." Jace edged into the doorway, sizing up Magnus with his eyes. Jasmine guessed that he was probably trying to intimidate the warlock. If he was, it wasn't working.

"Even if one of them spills a drink on my new shoes?"

"Even then." Magnus plucked the stele out of Jace's hand and held it up. "As for this," Magnus said, sliding the stele into Jace's pocket, "keep it in your pants, Shadowhunter." Magnus grinned and walked up the stairs.

Jace blinked in surprise, but quickly recomposed himself. "Come on inside," he said to the group. "Before anyone thinks it's my party."

They pushed past Jace, Jasmine giving him an almost-apologetic look. Isabelle shook her head at him. "Try not to piss him off, please," she said. "Then he won't help us."

Jace looked at her lazily. "I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so." She disappeared up the stairs with a twirl of her silver skirt.

 **As always, comments will be greatly appreciated. I've loved the reviews I've gotten so far. AxidentlGoddess's review on chapter 14, for instance, made me squeal about seven times and giggle like a little girl. You guys make my day everytime you mention the little details about this story! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy ^_^**


	16. Chapter 16

Magnus's apartment was full of Downworlders—vampires and, well, more vampires. Some faeries too, but mostly just the Night Children. Jasmine's heels were a lot less comfortable than they had been when she'd tried them on at the store, but as somebody who lived for cute footwear, she'd dealt with worse before.

"You like the party?" she heard Magnus ask, but he wasn't talking to her. He was talking to Clary.

The redhead smiled tightly. "Is it in honor of anything?"

"My cat's birthday."

"Oh. Where's your cat?"

Magnus looked grave. "I don't know. He ran away."

Jasmine frowned. "Aw," she said softly. "Chairman Meow…" She remembered the cat from a few days ago—a tiny creature with large, fearful eyes and cute little paws—and suddenly felt bad. She hoped nothing bad had happened to him.

Jace and Alec appeared at her side, the former looking a lot more cheerful than the latter. Jace had a circle of little glowing flowers around his neck; he looked happy about it, too. Jasmine snorted. "What the hell is that?" she asked, taking one of the flowers between her thumb and forefinger, the back of her hand resting against his collarbone.

"What, you don't like it?" he said with a grin. "I thought it might bring out my eyes."

Jasmine laughed out loud, and was about to reply, but she was cut off by Clary. "Where are Simon and Isabelle?" asked the redhead.

Jace pointed. "On the dance floor."

Looking around something like a mosh pit of dancing bodies, she spotted Simon and Izzy, Simon looking immensely uncomfortable as Isabelle danced around and up against him.

"I'll go get them," offerd Jasmine. She set off, avoiding trays of vibrantly colored drinks and hands attempting to grab at her. Isabelle didn't even notice when Jasmine showed up, but Simon looked relieved. "Is she drunk?" Jasmine said over the booming music, which had gotten louder the closer she'd gotten to the dance floor.

Isabelle's cheeks were flushed and her eyes glassy. When Jasmine caught her arm, the taller girl stumbled and almost lost her balance.

"Easy there," Jasmine giggled as she held her up. "Simon, go get her a glass of water."

"One glass of water coming up," Simon muttered, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Isn't he cute?" said Isabelle, her chin on Jasmine's shoulder.

Jasmine smiled. "I didn't think he was your type."

"Yeah, me neither…"

Jasmine looked back at Jace, Clary, Alec and Magnus, who seemed to be conversing very seriously. She was curious to know what they were saying, but decided to stay put. She'd ask about it later. She glanced at Isabelle, who was still moving to the music, though half in Jasmine's arms, and when she turned back to her group of friends, they were gone.

"Hey, sweetcheeks!" somebody said behind Jasmine. She turned to see a tall vampire with black, curly hair and a slight stubble, grinning thin, pointy teeth. He took her hand. She was too surprised to pull away. "How about you show me a couple moves, huh?"

Her first instinct was to twist his arm and throw him over her shoulder, despite their difference in size, but that would be rude—although she'd certainly show him some moves there. Wow, since when did she think like a Shadowhunter? She could imagine Izzy attacking the vampire for touching her without her permission, and she could definitely imagine Jace doing something like that… but Jasmine? She wasn't the type to use violence unless it was absolutely necessary.

Isabelle looked mad and sleepy at the same time. "Hey! Do _not_ touch her!"

"Iz, relax," laughed Jasmine. She turned to the vampire and pried his fingers off of her wrist. "Look over there!" She pointed at the some faery girl with glowing flowers in her hair, whom Jasmine suspected had given Jace his flower necklace. "She'll probably want to dance with you."

The vampire, looking as if he'd downed a few too many Bloody Marys, was immediately disinterested in Jasmine. He spun around and walked away without another word. Good, Jasmine thought. Somebody had better keep the faery girl distracted from Jace.

Simon returned a moment later, looking very overwhelmed. His eyes were almost wild.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Jasmine.

Simon swallowed and nodded. "I couldn't find a glass of water, but I found this." He held up a little blue drink, which Jasmine immediately shook her head at.

"That's a faery drink. Isabelle will just be worse off if she drinks that stuff. Besides, I think she's sobering up." She looked at the silver-clad girl, who reached out and took Simon's free hand.

"Come on, let's dance!"

Simon shot Jasmine a desperate look that screamed for help, but she wasn't going to ruin Isabelle's night. Besides, Simon could use a little fun. He could also use a drink—like an actual alcoholic drink—to help him loosen up. Jasmine spotted a bar not far away, and made her way through the crowd. She looked at the four-armed girl behind the bar with raised eyebrows.

"This is magic-free, right?" she asked, pointing at the row of shot glasses.

The girl nodded, and Jasmine picked one up. She wasn't against having a drink herself, but somebody had to look after Isabelle, and she wasn't a very good drinker herself. One shot and she'd be passed out on the dance floor. She carried the drink over to Simon, who was lifting the blue drink to his mouth.

Isabelle stood next to him, her arms crossed in agitation.

Jasmine dropped the shot glass and swatted at Simon's drink, which spilled all over the floor, but it was too late. He'd already taken a sip. Jasmine looked at Isabelle with wide eyes. "How could you let him—"

"I told him not to!" she protested.

Jasmine groaned irritably and grabbed Simon's elbow. He was looking disoriented already. "Simon, are you okay? Shit, don't pass out." Faery drinks had the nastiest effect on mundanes. Jasmine wasn't sure what kind of magic had been in the blue drink. She hoped it wasn't anything bad. Simon swayed on his feet, and all of a sudden Jasmine was gripping nothing but air. Simon had shrunk into a tiny little rat.

Jasmine's stomach dropped, and she cussed out loud. "ISABELLE!" she shrieked accusingly.

"What?! I didn't force him to drink that stuff!" But she was looking a little pale herself. Jasmine went to pick Simon up, but he was gone before she could. _Great,_ she thought. "We have to find the others," said Isabelle, clutching her forehead.

The group of Shadowhunters and Magnus were back in the room. Isabelle and Jasmine pounced on them immediately.

"Where's Simon?" asked Clary the moment she saw them.

Isabelle swayed. "He's a rat," she said.

Alec's eyes darkened. "Did he do something to you?" he demanded. "Did he touch you? If he tried anything—"

"No, Alec," Isabelle interrupted. "Not like that. He's a rat."

"She's drunk," said Jace, curling his lip in disgust.

"I'm not," Isabelle said. "Well, maybe a little, but that's not the point. The point is, Simon drank one of those blue drinks—I told him not to, but he didn't listen—and he turned into a rat."

Jasmine rubbed her temples nervously. What were they going to do about this?

"A rat?" Clary repeated, looking horrified. "You don't mean…"

"I mean a rat. Little. Brown. Scaly tail."

"And where were you in all of this?" Clary snapped at Jasmine, who made a frustrated sound.

"I left them alone for _ten seconds_ ," she said, glaring daggers. She wasn't sure who she was mad at. At Simon, possibly, for being stupid enough to ingest something unfamiliar to him and his kind, or at Isabelle for allowing him to, or even at herself, for not taking the cup away from him when she'd had the chance.

"The Clave isn't going to like this," said Alec in a doubtful manner. "I'm pretty sure turning mundanes into rats is against the Law."

"This isn't about the Law," said Jasmine, trying her best not to sound snappy. She'd only just gotten him to like her. She didn't want to jeopardize that. "This is about endangering some poor mundane's life."

"Technically," Jace pointed out, "they didn't turn him into a rat. The worst they could be accused of is negligence."

"Who cares about the stupid Law?" Clary screamed, grabbing Isabelle's wrist. "My best friend is a rat!"

"Ouch!" Isabelle tried to pull her wrist back. "Let go of me!"

"Not until you tell me where he is! I can't believe you just left him—he's probably terrified—"

"If he hasn't been stepped on," Jace pointed out.

" _Jace_ ," said Jasmine. "Not helping."

"I didn't leave him. He ran under the bar," Isabelle said, and pointed. "Let go! You're denting my bracelet."

"Bitch," said Clary. Isabelle looked as taken aback as Jasmine felt. The redhead ran toward the bar, and the rest followed. Clary dropped down to her knees, and looked under it. "Simon? Is that you? It's me, Clary. Are you okay?"

"Is he under there?" asked Jace.

"Shh. You'll frighten him off." She shoved her hand under the bar. "Please come out, Simon. We'll get Magnus to reverse the spell. It'll be okay."

Jasmine looked behind her, but Magnus wasn't there, proving that he hadn't followed them to the bar. Turning back to Clary, she saw that the shorter girl was now hugging the little brown rat to her chest. "Oh, poor baby… Poor Simon. It'll be fine, I promise—"

"I wouldn't feel too sorry for him," said Jace. "That's probably the closest he's ever gotten to second base."

"Shut up!" Clary said, and for once, Jasmine felt like Jace deserved it. "Get Magnus," she said sharply. "We have to turn him back."

"Let's not be hasty." Jace grinned. He reached toward Simon as if he was going to pet him. "He's cute like that. Look at his little pink nose."

"Jace, stop it." Jasmine was actually mad now. "What's wrong with you tonight?"

"More like 'what's wrong with you,' period," Clary mumbled, still hugging Simon close to her.

Jace looked unaffected by Jasmine's outburst, but something seemed to have turned around in his behaviour. "Izzy, go fetch our magnificent host."

"Why me?" Isabelle asked childishly.

"Because it's your fault the mundane's a rat, idiot," he said. "And we can't leave him here."

Isabelle glared. "You'd be all right with leaving him if it weren't for Jasmine," she snapped.

Jasmine scoffed. "What do I have to do with this? It's Clary's rat—sorry, friend."

"I mean you'd be mad at him for abandoning Simon," said Isabelle.

"And that's a bad thing?"

But Isabelle was already gone. Jasmine suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. Something inside her mind seemed to snap. She heard a voice.

 _"You wouldn't even be in the Circle if it weren't for Lucian."_

Jasmine's breathing hitched. An image formed in her mind. A redheaded young lady, probably in her twenties. She stood opposite Darya, her hands on the Persian's shoulders. Darya was in tears, pale as a ghost. Jasmine was startled to see Darya's hands resting on her rounded stomach.

 _"I don't know what to do, Jocelyn,_ " she was saying. _"With Lucian gone, and my brother on Valentine's side…"_

Jocelyn spoke in a hushed voice. _"You have two options if you want to keep the baby safe. You can either help us defeat Valentine, or leave Alicante for good. Valentine will not spare you. He will not show mercy."_

Darya wiped at her eyes. _"I won't leave you here. I won't leave_ Lucian _here."_

 _"He would want you to stay safe,"_ said Jocelyn, her eyes sad. _"He would want you to go."_

 _"How do you know?"_

 _"Because he told me,"_ sighed Jocelyn. _"I can take you to him. I can take you to Lucian. But only if you promise to keep this between us."_

"Jasmine? Everything okay?" asked Alec, and she was snapped back to reality.

She wiped her sweaty hands on her legs. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She sounded dazed.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Jace added, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Jasmine forced a smile and nodded, but said nothing.

"Let's get out of here," said Clary. "I'm sick of this place."

Jasmine frowned. "Where's Simon?"

"In my backpack," sighed Clary. "Magnus said the effect of the cocktail would wear off soon."

Speaking of Magnus, Jasmine thought, where had he gone? She glanced to where a bunch of vampires were gathering, and saw him standing there. The vampires were complaining loudly about their ruined motorcycles. _Damn it, Jace_.

On their way out, somebody bumped into Clary, almost knocking her to the ground. "Hey, pretty thing," he said, grinning down at her. "What's in the bag?"

"Holy water," said Jace sharply.

"Oooh, Shadowhunters," said the vampire. "Scary." He turned around and disappeared back into the crowd.

"Vampires are such prima donnas," Magnus sighed from the doorway. "Honestly, I don't know why I have these parties."

"Because of your cat," Clary reminded him.

Magnus perked up. "That's true. Chairman Meow deserves my every effort."

Jasmine smiled.

"You on your way out?" asked the warlock.

Jace nodded. "Don't want to overstay our welcome."

"What welcome?" Magnus asked. "I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but it wasn't. Not that you aren't all fairly charming, and as for you—" He winked at Alec, who blushed fiercely. "Call me?"

Alec stuttered and stared. Jace rolled his eyes and took his arm, dragging him out the door. Isabelle and Jasmine followed suit, Clary being the only one who stayed behind.

The four of them waited outside. Somewhere between one minute and the next, Isabelle started weeping. Jasmine rubbed the taller girl's back guiltily. She really shouldn't have shouted at Izzy before. "It's my fault," bawled the Lightwood girl.

"No, it's not," said Jasmine, her eyebrows knitted together in empathy. She hated it when other people cried. She put her chin on Isabelle's shoulder and hugged the other girl until she was merely sniffling.

"I'll take it from here," said Alec kindly. Jasmine blinked gratefully and watched him pull Isabelle into his arms.

"You okay?" asked Jace, unhitching himself from the wall he'd been leaning against.

Jasmine swallowed and stepped towards him. "Yeah. Mostly. You know, I've always wanted an older brother. Isabelle doesn't know how fortunate she is."

"You'll have a sister, soon," Jace said. "I mean Izzy," he added when she looked at him funny. "You'll feel a lot closer once you've done the _parabatai_ ritual."

"If you say so," said Jasmine. "I doubt it'll be same as having a sibling, though."

"You'd be surprised. Sometimes _parabatai_ can even feel each other's headaches."

Jasmine giggled. "God, I hope not. I hate headaches."

Jace breathed a chuckle. "It's nothing a rune can't fix." The back of his hand brushed hers. "What happened back there? You looked particularly startled."

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't?" Jace's eyebrows jumped up.

Jasmine shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me," she said.

"Let me guess, you came to the conclusion that you can no longer live without me?"

Jasmine smiled. "Close, but not quite. I had a vision. At least, I think I did." She hugged herself. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Jace looked intrigued. "What did you see?"

"I saw my aunt Darya," breathed Jasmine. "She was pregnant—three months along at _least._ She was talking to Jocelyn about Luke. About the Circle and Valentine…"

Jace looked as if he were processing her words. "And you're sure you're not drunk."

"Jace." She gave him a look. "No. It's not impossible, you know. Back at Clary's place, I had a vision of Jocelyn being kidnapped. I didn't even know what she looked like back then, and still I saw her."

"You imagined her looking like Clary. Mothers and daughters usually look alike."

"Not always," said Jasmine. "Not in my case. I keep hearing a voice, too. My aunt's voice. And I have these dreams—these vivid dreams. I remember every detail. That must mean something."

"Maybe—" Jace took a breath. "—you're just imagining things? Like when you imagined my future. You imagined me living in Idris."

Jasmine shrugged. "Maybe that was a vision too." She recalled the dream where she'd been sitting behind him on a horse, dressed in gold. Bridal gold.

 _"We're home,"_ he'd told her.

"This stuff is real, Jace. Madame Dorothea knew your name before you'd even introduced yourself—"

"But you aren't a witch."

"So? Dorothea isn't a witch, either. Apparently, you don't have to be a witch to be clairvoyant. And that thing I do with my hands… I healed Clary. I healed myself." Jasmine pushed her curls back. "I'm just saying—" She silenced herself when she saw Clary climbing down the stairs in Izzy's high heels. Jasmine shook her head. "Maybe a good night's sleep will help me clear my mind. I'm pretty tired, so…" She didn't bother with finishing her sentence—she'd gotten her point across.

On the way to the L train, Jasmine felt herself zoning out. She walked alone, with Alec and Izzy a few feet in front of her, and Jace and Clary a few steps behind. Both the former duo and the latter were arguing, though Jasmine was too mentally and physically exhausted to pay attention to what was being said.

It was only when she heard Jace call out her name that she was snapped back to reality. "Hm?" She turned around.

"You guys go on ahead! We'll catch up!" hollered Jace from a distance. Jasmine realized that he hadn't just called her name, he'd called Alec and Isabelle's too.

Jasmine frowned, but couldn't bring herself to object. Isabelle now stood next to her, her hand on Jasmine's arm. "Come on, what are you waiting for?" she said.

Jasmine sighed and fell into step between the Lightwoods. She glanced at Alec, whose hands were in his pockets, his head bent in a way that showed he wasn't very happy to leave Jace behind. Jasmine couldn't say she was happy, either.

 **This book is sloooowly coming to an end, guys! There's probably about two or three chapters left, but I WILL be continuing the story. I have a whole plot planned with Sebastian and Valentine and of course, Amir and Darya. You'll finally find out who Jasmine really is!**

 **Stay tuned and please leave a review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**So this chapter took a lot of editing... I mean it was done about a week ago, but I wasn't sure about putting it up. It's still not what I inteded it to be, but it's something. Here's chappie 17 for ya!**

With every passing hour, Jasmine felt herself getting more and more upset. Isabelle was doing everything she could to set Jasmsine's nerves at ease, but Jasmine wasn't having it. The two were in Izzy's room, bare-faced and pajama-clad. Isabelle's hair was in two long braids, while Jasmine's curls fell around her shoulders in tangles, still shimmering with the golden glitter Isabelle had sprinkled her with before Magnus's party.

Isabelle hugged a pillow to her chest. "It's almost morning," she yawned. "We should get some sleep." When Jasmine only frowned, Isabelle sighed and threw herself down on the bed. "Jace will be _fine_. It's the other two I'm worried about."

"I don't doubt Jace's ability to take care of himself, but I just wish he would have told me where he was going. Or when he would be back, at least."

"I know. You've told me that a thousand times, _at least_ ," Isabelle mocked, rolling onto her stomach. "Listen, Jaz, I'm ready to get some sleep in before the sun comes up. I'm dead tired, and my head is killing me."

"That's a lot of death in one sentence," said Jasmine with a sigh. "Alright, I'll leave you alone. Goodnight, Izzy"

"Hmm." The other girl's voice was muffled against the fabric of her pillowcase.

Jasmine rubbed her tired eyes, her bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor as she walked down to her own bedroom. She jumped into bed and tightly wrapped the sheets around her body, suddenly craving warmth and comfort. Preferably that of a human, but it couldn't be helped.

Jasmine dreamed of a baby that night—a tiny newborn with soft black hair, lying in a crib, almond eyes closed. Jasmine couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. What she did know, however, was that the baby was sick.

 _"We have to call for the Silent Brothers,"_ croaked Darya, gently touching the baby's head with her fingertips. Darya looked bedraggled—her hair was a tangled mess, her skin pale. She was wearing a white night gown which Jasmine recognized as the one she had worn in a previous dream. The odd thing was that this time Jasmine was aware that she was dreaming.

Darya must have given birth to her child before her death, Jasmine thought, because the baby bump was gone.

 _"Please,"_ pleaded Darya, tears welling in her dark eyes. _"She's not going to make it. Brother, please."_

 _"Patience, Darya,"_ said Amir, placing his hands on his sister's shoulders. He looked a lot younger, his face unlined and clean shaven. He looked more dynamic than Jasmine remembered. _"Valentine has thought of everything."_

 _"She's not protected,"_ spat Darya through clenched teeth. _"The ritual hasn't been done."_

When Amir said nothing, Darya glared daggers at her brother. _"I_ _can't believe you would sacrifice your own flesh and blood for some maniac's crazy plan. You and Valentine will go to hell, eventually, along with every other mindless extremist on this earth. You think you're doing the Angel's work? You couldn't be more wrong."_

Amir looked as if he might try to hurt her, but before he could—before Jasmine could _see_ it, the room started spinning, and Jasmine was shown a scene that tugged at her heart. A younger version of her mother lay curled up in bed, a curly-headed toddler asleep in her arms. With a start, Jasmine realized that she was looking at herself. Her three-year-old self lay comfortably under a bundle of blankets, safe in Noella's presence.

Noella, gingerly stroking Jasmine's little arm, pressed a kiss to the child's head and squeezed her eyes shut as if she were in agonizing pain. _"They'll never get you like they did her,"_ she whispered, holding Jasmine close. _"I'll protect you."_

When Jasmine woke up, her pillow was tear stained. Something about seeing her mother again, even if it had only been in a dream, had shaken her. They would never get Jasmine like they had gotten _her_ , whoever that was. She assumed that Noella had meant her cousin. Her sick baby cousin. What had happened to her? What had Amir and Valentine done to Darya's child? Were they planning to do the same to Jasmine?

Sometimes Jasmine fantasized about a world where Noella was still alive, where Jasmine wouldn't have had to run away from her father. But then Noella would have been unhappy. Maybe even unhappier than she'd been before.

There was a knock on the door. "Jaz?" said Isabelle.

"Come in," sniffled Jasmine, drying her eyes. She sat up.

Isabelle only poked her head around the door. "They're back," she said. "Jace and Simon and Clary. They're back."

"Where have they been?" asked Jasmine quickly, and checked the time. It was early morning, barely an hour after sunrise.

"Saving Simon from a clan of vampires."

This took Jasmine by surprise. "When… how… _what_?"

Isabelle held up a hand. "That's all I know," she said. "They're in the infirmary now. You won't believe how swollen Simon's foot is. I had to _cut his shoe off_ , for God's sake."

Jasmine sighed, rubbed her face and got up. "I'll be down in a minute." When Isabelle was gone, Jasmine went into the bathroom and took the quickest shower she'd ever taken. She dried herself off, dressed in a pair of black leggings and a burgundy red tunic with bell sleeves, threw her wet hair into a ponytail, and rushed down to the infirmary.

Alec was unhappily staring out the window. Isabelle was there, too, and so was Simon. Jace lay in one of the beds, half-propped up against a dozen pillows. He was the first person to look at her when she entered the room.

"Where's Clary?" asked Jasmine, noticing the younger girl's absence.

"Getting fixed up by Hodge," said Isabelle without looking at her.

"I'm doing fine, thank you for asking," said Jace sarcastically. This rubbed Jasmine the wrong way.

"You are unbelievable," she snapped.

Jace narrowed his eyes curiously. "I'm getting the distinct feeling you're upset about something."

Jasmine wanted to smack him. "You are such a dickhole."

"A dickho—well, that's graphic," Jace said. "Plus I thought I was a dick _nugget_."

"How about we just call him a dick?" Simon suggested. Isabelle shushed him.

Jasmine turned back to Jace. "Where have you been?"

Jace looked as if he were recounting last night's events. "Let's see… Saving little mundane rats, hunting down vampires… You know, the usual."

"It's not funny! Why didn't you tell us where you were going?"

"You would have wanted to come."

" _So_?!"

"It wasn't necessary," said Jace, shrugging one shoulder.

"I was _worried_ about you!"

"That wasn't necessary either," said Jace. "I am probably the best Shadowhunter my age—"

"That's not what this is about," said Jasmine, cutting across him.

"So what _is_ this about?"

She pointed accusingly. "This is about _you_ always wanting to play the hero." When Jace said nothing in response, Jasmine edged closer to the bed. "Nobody expects you to do everything by yourself…"

"I know."

"So why didn't you just ask for help?"

"I already told you," Jace said. "There was no need to. You were all pretty tired—you especially—and I was perfectly able to get the mundane back on my own. I had no reason to bother you with a spontaneous mission."

 _So why did you take Clary,_ Jasmine wanted to ask, but she didn't. She didn't want to give anyone the impression that she was jealous of the redhead, especially when part of her understood that Simon was Clary's best friend. Of course she'd gone with Jace.

"Alright," said Jasmine. She crossed her arms and sat down on the edge of the bed. "How are you? Are you hurt?" she asked softly.

Jace smiled and took her hand, uncrossing her arms. Jasmine melted at his fingertips, her heart fluttering the way it always did when Jace looked at her like that.

"Only when we're apart," said Jace theatrically. Jasmine wasn't sure if he was joking or not, so she just snorted to hide her embarrassment.

"You're delusional," she said. "You probably have a fever."

He swatted her hand away when she went to feel his forehead. "What a way to dismiss my feelings. I'm wounded."

"That's what _iratzes_ are for," said Jasmine. She flashed him a genuine smile and squeezed his hand. "I need to go talk to Hodge." She stood up, but Jace held onto her hand, his thumb brushing over the back of it.

"Why? Has something happened?"

Letting go of his fingers was like ripping off a bandaid. "I'll tell you later."

Jace only nodded.

Jasmine walked out, trying her best not to acknowledge the pairs of eyes following her. It was as if she hadn't been aware that she was being stared at when she'd been talking to Jace, or maybe she just hadn't cared.

On her way to the library, she crossed Clary, who was looking a lot better than Jace and Simon. "Glad to see you're still in one piece," said Jasmine, somehow sounding bitter.

Clary frowned a little. "Thanks..."

"Is Hodge in the library?" asked Jasmine. Clary nodded, and Jasmine thanked her. She brushed past the shorter girl.

Hodge was just emerging from the library when Jasmine got there. "Goodmorning," said Jasmine. He looked almost startled to see her.

"Ah. Jasmine." He dabbed at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked. Hodge, borderline unwillingly, nodded and motioned for her to follow him back to his desk. "Was Darya pregnant?" Jasmine near-busted out. "Before she died, I mean."

Hodge blinked. "Why do you ask?"

"Was she?"

"…Yes."

"She gave birth to her child before her death." She sat herself down at the edge of the mahogany desk. "Didn't she?"

"I strongly doubt it. Darya was six months pregnant during the Uprising. The child would have been born prematurely," said Hodge. Jasmine deflated a little. Just when she thought she was on the right track... "The only cousins you have are Benjamin and Selena Sianoor, and they are thirteen and under."

Jasmine had seen the kids when Jasmine and Amir had gone to Alicante for Noella's funeral. Selena had brown, curly hair and big gray eyes. At barely even one year old, Selena had been the most adorable, charming baby. She and thirteen-year-old Benjamin were siblings, brought into this world by her uncle Arash and his Romanian wife Gabriella.

Jasmine's other uncle didn't have a wife or children. She had always vaguely wondered why. Uncle Masoud was a charismatic man with a great sense of humor, even if his jokes were somewhat childish. When Masoud was serious, which was rarely, Jasmine never had a hard time listening to the man. He always knew what he was talking about.

"Luke. Lucian. Whatever his name is," Jasmine said. "He was the father, wasn't he? I mean, he would have been—had the child lived."

"I'm fairly certain that he was. He and Darya had been together for almost a year before Lucian disappeared. I found out about the pregnancy about a month later, along with the rest of the Circle."

Jasmine gave herself a moment to process his words. "Do you think Luke knew about the baby?"

"He might have known," said Hodge. "Though I cannot be sure."

She wanted to talk to him—to Luke. Hear his side of the story. He had lost a child many years ago, but was he aware of that? And if not, should she even be the one to tell him? After such a long time, would it be right to weigh him down with this information? To cause him pain?

"You don't happen to know where the New York pack resides, do you?" asked Jasmine hopefully.

Hodge looked hesitant. "Chinatown."

Jasmine blinked. "And… how do I get there?"

Hodge took out a piece of paper and began scribbling down directions and some other stuff. "But, before you go," he said, handing it to her. "I would advise you to have breakfast before you leave. We wouldn't want your blood sugar to drop again, do we?" He half-smiled and she chuckled out of politeness.

Hodge reached into his drawer, pulled out a little container and put his hand on her lower back, steering her into the kitchen's direction. Jasmine watched him make her a cup of tea with the leaves inside the container, which she found incredibly thoughtful. She leaned over the cup and breathed in the leaves' scent. It smelled strongly of a sweeter version of mint, and caused a slight light-headedness.

She lifted the cup of steaming tea to her lips. "This isn't like the tea you made me a few days ago, is it?" she asked. "The one you told me would energize me. It put me to sleep immediately."

"I am aware," said Hodge patiently. "The tea I made you the other day was to energize you the day after."

Jasmine made a face of approval. "Fair enough. It worked." She took a careful sip. The tea tasted like licorice and honey, which contrasted the minty scent.

"Well, enjoy your tea. I'm going to go check on our troublemakers," said Hodge.

"Would you tell them I'll be gone for a while? I'll be back before dark."

Hodge nodded and left without further communication. Jasmine sipped her tea until the cup was empty and briefly went back to her room to get a few necessary items—her stele, seraph daggers, and of course, her wallet. She put up a glamour, slid her flip phone into her belt, and was out the door. The device ran on magic (thanks to Magnus), so she could still use it outside of the Netherlands.

She had almost arrived at the subway station when she wished she would have gotten a little more sleep the night before. As she checked the directions Hodge had given her, she found that the letters were starting to blur. She blinked harshly, and looked around. She wasn't too far from the Institute. _Maybe I should head back_ , she thought. Walking the streets alone wasn't a good idea when you felt as faint as she did.

She heard a sound, something like the rustling of clothes, just a few metres behind. She spun around and stumbled dizzily. As she tried to break into a run, she felt the familiar sting of a stele against the back of her neck. She gasped and lashed out at whoever was restraining her from running away.

A laugh.

Jasmine, suddenly paralyzed, found that the best and only thing left to do was to scream, but not even that worked. Her vision went black around the edges, and her knees gave out.

A single thought crossed her mind before losing consciousness—she was in trouble.

 **Please leave a review! I promise I won't take too long with the next chapter :P**


	18. Chapter 18

**GUYS GUYS GUYS THERE ARE TWO-THREE CHAPTERS LEFT. I will be continuing, of course. Keep checking the author's notes (like this one) for more information.**

Jasmine was cold all over when she regained consciousness—cold and shaky, with her head pounding and her wrist stinging like a third-degree burn. The first thing Jasmine did was reach for her stele. The second thing she did was panic when she couldn't find any of her belongings. Her daggers were gone, her stele was nowhere to be found, and neither was her phone. All she had on her were her clothes, which did nothing to keep her warm from the chilliness of the room.

Sitting up was slow and nauseating, but she managed. She rolled up her sleeve to see what the hell was hurting her so much, and she had to blink harshly to make sure she was seeing right. A symbol had been carved into her skin with a stele: a symbol she had never seen before. It overlapped her angelic rune, which was the first rune she'd ever gotten at twelve years old.

The skin around the unfamiliar rune was bright red and blistered. It looked like someone had taken a lighter and scorched her skin. Touching the rune was the worst decision she had ever made. It hurt so badly that she had no choice but to cry out and squirm until the pain faded. She let out a long string of creatively combined curse words and closed her eyes for a minute.

The last time Jasmine had felt that miserable was when she'd woken up after getting stung by that shape shifter in the alley next to Luke's book store. _Alright,_ she thought. _Time to suck it up._ She had to hold onto the metal headboard of the bed to get up, but she didn't stumble, which was a good thing. If nothing else, she still had some sense of balance.

First things first, she thought, check your surroundings. Figure out where you are.

The floor beneath her feet was made of grey concrete, and so were the walls. Spare for the rusty metal bed in the corner, the room was mostly empty. There were two doors on each side. One led to an awfully small bathroom, and the other would most likely lead her to freedom, but it was locked.

Jasmine sighed. There was nothing there that could potentially be used as a weapon. Nothing to get her out. There was one window, but it was too high up, and too small for Jasmine to crawl through anyway. Broad daylight shone through, which indicated that it was afternoon. So she'd either been unconscious for a couple hours, or an entire day.

"Has the girl woken up yet?" asked somebody down the hall. "It's been a day and a half. I'm losing my patience."

 _Well, there you go,_ she thought.

Jasmine felt as if somebody had hit her in the stomach with a brick when the second voice spoke. "I haven't checked on her in a while. I figured we'd know if she were awake." It was her father. "Hodge's tea might have been a tad too strong."

Before she could stop to think about it, Jasmine slammed her fist against the door. "LET ME OUT!" she screamed, her chest heaving with anger, betrayal and dizziness. She twisted the doorknob aggressively and banged on the door once more. Before she could shout something else, the door swung open and hit her in the face. She stumbled back, covering her mouth with her hands. She could taste blood already.

A large hand grabbed her by the shoulder. "Are you going to calm down?" Amir hissed. When she said nothing, he let go of her. "I told you I'd find you. Didn't I?"

Jasmine faked a glare. It took all she had not to shrink away from her father, the way she usually did. She reminded herself to keep her chin up and not show a single shred of fear.

"She's not holding up too well," said the man behind him. There was no compassion in his voice, just plain observation.

"I warned you that she wouldn't be strong enough," Amir said. "Demonic magic might give a regular Shadowhunter more strength, but with Jasmine…" He didn't finish his sentence.

"The contrast is too big. I understand," said the man. "But there was not enough time. We have been planning this for nearly two decades."

Jasmine blinked uncomprehendingly. She could barely follow what was being said. "What did you do to me?" she asked, sounding a lot less demanding than she had intended for it to sound. "What's this on my arm?" She showed the men her adulterated skin.

The man behind Amir stepped forward. "It's an experiment," he said. "A Teroran rune to enhance your Shadowhunter abilities."

This startled Jasmine more than she'd thought possible. Teroran runes were incredibly powerful and _dark_ , most of all. Marielle had taught her all about it. Jasmine wanted nothing of the sort to ever touch her, no less have it be _stuck_ to her.

It was only when she fixed her gaze on the man that she recognized him, with his white-blonde hair and black eyes. He was buff—probably three times her size. "I know you," Jasmine said quietly, her fingers lingering over her throbbing lips. "I met you years ago, back in Amsterdam."

The man looked satisfied. "Your memory is not terrible," he said.

"Who are you?" Jasmine asked, narrowing her eyes. "What's your name?"

"Surely you can put two and two together," said the man in a way that made Jasmine's blood run cold. Without even having to think about it too hard, one name and one name only popped into her head. She was sure she looked horrified, because he smiled and said, "Bingo."

She swallowed her nausea. "Why am I here?" she demanded.

"Your father wants you close, Jasmine," said Valetine in response. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Jasmine glanced at Amir, with his scruffy, tan face and hard eyes. "Yes," she said. "I find that extremely hard to believe, considering he doesn't give a damn about me."

"I wouldn't say he doesn't care." Valentine's voice was gentle. "I think he might be a little disappointed in you. Lying, taking off without permission, not obeying his will. If you were my daughter, I'd surely punish you."

"You know who else punishes someone for not obeying their will?" Jasmine looked at her fingertips, which were now stained with her mouth blood. "A tyrant."

Valentine chuckled wryly. "You talk just like her. You talk just like your mother."

This struck a nerve. "Don't talk about my mother like you knew her."

"Oh, but I did know her." His eyes glinted with a sadistic kind of humor. "She was stubborn and she was fiery, but she was naïve. She was so trusting of us—of the Circle. I suppose love really does make blind."

Jasmine frowned. "What the hell are you talking about? My mother never wanted anything to do with the Circle."

"Noella didn't," said Valentine. "Your mother was a different story."

Cold sweat settled on Jasmine's back and forehead. "I don't… I don't understand." Her voice was no louder than a whisper.

"I think you do understand," said Valentine.

It didn't matter how strong and untouchable she wanted to look in that moment—what she had just been told was powerful enough to make her crumble at the edges. Everything clicked—every dream she'd had over the past two weeks, the voice in the back of her head, her visions… She didn't have to ask who her parents were. "Hodge said Darya was still pregnant when she died," said Jasmine softly.

"That is what everybody was made to believe. No one could know about you being her child, Jasmine."

"So you hid her away until she gave birth to me? What kind of sick monster does that? I suppose she wasn't really killed by a werewolf either, was she?"

"Your family believes Lucian did it." There was a look of amusement on Valentine's face. "Just can't trust Downworlders…" He sighed theatrically.

Her shoulders were trembling with rage. She had never wanted to watch somebody bleed as much as in that moment. "Why'd you do it? Why couldn't you just let us live in peace?"

"Your biological parents were traitors to their own kind," said Valentine. "I gave you a better family." It astounded Jasmine how sure of himself he sounded. "You would have been raised in exile, far away from your own kind. You would have never reached your full potential," said Valentine. "Your father did all he could to shape you into the warrior you were born to be—"

"He's not my father!" Jasmine shrieked, surprising even herself. Oh, how she hated lies. To be told that she'd been living one her entire life was a nightmare.

Valentine's features twisted angrily.

"Would you call Lucian your father, Jasmine?" asked Amir. "What has he ever done to earn your respect?"

"More than you have done in sixteen years, that's for sure," spat Jasmine.

Valentine took a steady breath. "We have more important things to do than to stand here and argue with a child," he told Amir conclusively. He looked less than mad. In fact, his face was completely neutral.

Jasmine opened her mouth to speak, but her breath was suddenly cut short and her vision went white. She rubbed her eyes with trembling fingers.

"Get some rest," Amir told her monotonously. "You'll need your strength." And then he and Valentine were gone, and Jasmine was left to pace around the room.

She would not give in to her physical discomfort. She would not give in to the Teroran rune on her arm, to Valentine and Amir. She had to think of a plan-a way to had to tell the others that Hodge was not to be trusted, that she knew where Valentine was hiding out-even if she wasn't sure of the location yet.

It took one try for her to figure out the door was locked. At least from the inside. Amir and Valentine hadn't used a key to get in.

"Great," she mumbled, and sat down on the bed in the corner. As she looked out the little overhead window, she saw that the sun was setting. The changing colors of the sky were beautiful to look at, but worrying as well. She was wasting time by just lying around. Not that there was much she could do, but still.

Her eyelids felt oddly heavy, and she was sure that her cheeks were flushed. She certainly felt feverish.

Somewhere down the line, time and space started to blur inside Jasmine's mind. She wasn't sure how long she'd been there, or why she kept slipping in and out of consciousness. She curled up on her side, finding comfort in nothing but her own arms.

Just when she thought she was losing consciousness again, she heard a calm voice down the hall. A voice that made her question if she was hallucinating.

"Is she in here?"

She head the creaking of an old door, and when she turned her head, she saw him standing in the doorway, the light of the hallway nearly blinding her as it poured into the dark room. She pushed herself to a sitting position, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Jace," she said, afraid to blink for if she did, he might disappear again.

But as he dropped to his knees in front of her and took her in his arms, she recognized the sound of his heartbeat, and she knew he was really there. His grip on her was tight, but she would have held him just as tightly if she'd had the strength.

"Jasmine," he said, brushing her hair out of her face. Her ponytail must have come undone at some point, she thought. Jace pulled away and held her at a distance, looking at her as if he himself wasn't sure if she were real or not. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Yeah," she said, absently pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose, and then his cheek. "Are you?"

"You don't look all right," said Jace, and put the back of his hand against her forehead. He mumbled something about a fever, but Jasmine was too absorbed in the tender movement of his fingers as they traced the outline of her face.

"I know the truth now," she said. "About me and my family."

Jace smiled at her with a weary affection. "Well then that makes two of us."

"Children."

Jasmine glanced up in surprise. Valentine stood in the doorway, looking down at them with exaggerated patience. "I don't mean to interrupt whatever it is that's going on," he said, "but we are getting ready to leave. Amir is already on the other side. I would advise you to gather your things."

Jasmine frowned. "Jonathan?"

Jace exhaled and hauled her to her feet. "Come on," he said.

Jasmine detached herself from him, almost losing her balance in the process. "What's going on?" she demanded. "Where are the others?"

"It's a long story." He sounded tired.

"Talk to me." She studied his face. " _Jace._ I swear, if you lied to me about who you are—"

He held up a hand. "Just… shut up for a moment." He didn't sound angry, and Jasmine wasn't offended. "I'll explain."

"I will be right back," said Valentine. "I have to take care of a few things first. Be ready."

Jasmine turned back to Jace, scowling as if he had betrayed her. "Why does it feel like you're on his side?" she asked.

"It's all been a misunderstanding," he said, shaking his head. "It's been one big misunderstanding. I thought my father was dead. All these years I thought he was dead."

Jasmine whispered his name, her stomach churning with dread. His eyes were bright with relief, with a kind of twisted happiness, but he was tired. He was fragile. He was just a boy. For the first time, Jasmine realized just how young Jace actually was.

"Jasmine, I belong with my father." His adam's apple bounced. "I belong with Valentine."

She felt herself pale with every syllable he spoke. "Don't ever say that again," she choked out.

"But Jasmine—"

" _Jace, DON'T_." She swore she saw him flinch at her voice, but she didn't care. He could use a reality check. How dare he pick the side of the enemy, when he was always so focused on doing the right thing? On following the Law?

Somebody entered the room. It wasn't Valentine this time, and it wasn't Amir. Oddly enough, it was Clary, with her face looking as though somebody with unnaturally sharp nails had slashed at it.

"Jace. Jasmine," she said, sounding out of breath.

Jasmine blinked. "Clary. What are you doing here?" she asked. "By the Angel, what happened to you?"

"I came for you," said Clary.

"You shouldn't have," Jace said.

Jasmine ignored him. "How did you find us?" she asked. "Are the others with you?"

Clary shook her head and said, "No. I came with Luke. To rescue you."

"Thank you," said Jasmine, and she meant it.

"So those are—you came with the wolf clan?" asked Jace.

Jasmine's eyebrows jumped up. "The whole clan is here? Where's Luke now?"

"Downstairs," said Clary. "He killed Blackwell. I came up to look for you—"

"He's going to have to call them off," said Jace in a distant voice.

Clary frowned. "What?"

"Luke," he said. "He's going to call off his pack. There's been a misunderstanding."

Jasmine set her jaw. "No, there hasn't! Stop saying that!"

" _What_ misunderstanding?" demanded Clary, walking over to them. "Did you kidnap yourself?"

At that moment, Valentine walked in, and Jasmine reached for the dagger at Clary's waist.

"So," said Valentine, "have you gathered your things? Our Forsaken can hold o the wolf-men for only so—"

Seeing Clary, he broke off midsentence. "What is this?" he asked, sounding slightly astonished. Jasmine's head was spinning, but she could still throw the dagger. She could still kill Valentine, now that she had a weapon—now that she had two Shadowhunters to cover her back.

"No," said Jace. An agonizing pain shot through her arm where he grabbed it, where the Teroran rune had been drawn, making her drop the weapon and cry out in a way that startled even herself. Jace paled visibly.

"Jace!" shrieked Clary accusingly.

"I-I didn't—" Jace started, but he couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.

"This all seems a little bit dramatic," said Valentine dryly. "Son, would you care explain to me who this is? One of the Lightwood children, perhaps?"

" _Son_?" Clary repeated.

"Clary, this is my father," Jace half-choked out. Jasmine could still feel his gaze on her, but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. "Father, this is Clary. Clarissa Fray. She's a friend of mine. She…" He trailed off.

"Where did you come by that blade, young lady?" asked Valentine, looking at the dagger on the ground.

Clary did nothing to retrieve the blade, as if she were afraid Valentine would hit her over the head. "Jace gave it to me."

Valentine picked the dagger up off the concrete floor and said, "This is a kindjal, a Circassian dagger. This particular one used to be one of a matched pair. Here, see the star of the Morgensterns, carved into the blade." He turned it over and showed it to Jace. "I'm surprised the Lightwoods never noticed it."

"I never showed it to them," said Jace. "They let me have my own private things. They didn't pry."

"Of course they didn't," said Valentine. He handed the kindjal back to Jace. "They thought you were Michael Wayland's son."

Jace, sliding the dagger into his belt, looked up. "So did I," he said softly.

Valentine turned back to Clary, and drew out her name. "Clary," he said. "Short for Clarissa? Not a name I would have chosen."

Clary was quick to answer. "I don't really care what you would have chosen."

"I am sure that you don't," replied Valentine, stepping closer to her. She stepped back.

"You're not Jace's father," she said. "You're trying to trick us. Jace's father was Michael Wayland. The Lightwoods know it. Everyone knows it."

"The Lightwoods were misinformed," said Valentine. "They truly believed—believe that Jace is the son of their friend Michael. As does the Clave. Even the Silent Brothers do not know who he really is. Although soon enough, they will."

"But the Wayland ring—"

"Ah, yes," said Valentine, looking at Jace's hand. "The ring. Funny, isn't it, how an M worn upside down resembles a W? Of course, if you'd bothered to think about it, you'd probably have thought it a little strange that the symbol of the Wayland family would be a falling star. But not at all strange that it would be the symbol of the Morgensterns."

Clary stared at Jace's ring. "I have no idea what you mean."

"I forget how regrettably lax mundane education is," Valentine said. "Morgenstern means 'morning star.' As in 'How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!'"

Clary shivered. "You mean Satan."

"Or any great power lost," said Valentine, "out of a refusal to serve. As mine was. I would not serve a corrupt government, and for that I lost my family, my lands, almost my life—"

"The Uprising was your fault!" snapped Clary. "People died in it! Shadowhunters like you!"

"Clary." Jace put his hand on her shoulder. "Just listen to him, will you? It's not like you thought. Hodge lied to us."

"I know," said Clary. "He betrayed us to Valentine. He was Valentine's pawn."

"No," said Jace. "No, Hodge was the one who wanted the Mortal Cup all along. He was the one who sent the Raveners after your mother. My father—Valentine only found out about it afterward, and came to stop him. He brought your mother here to heal her, not to hurt her."

Jasmine suppressed the urge to slap him. She would never want to hurt him, but that way she might smack some sense into him.

Clary looked at Jace in disgust. "And you believe that crap? Hodge was working for Valentine. They were in it together, getting the Cup. He set us up, it's true, but he was just a tool."

"But he was the one who needed the Mortal Cup," said Jace. "So he could get the curse off him and flee before my father told the Clave about everything he'd done."

Jasmine's ears felt hot with rage. "Valentine would do no such thing. He'd better run before the Clave get their hands on him. He knows damn well that they won't let him live. Why would he purposefully seek them out?"

Clary turned to Valentine. "I was in the room when you came to get the Cup. You couldn't see me, but I was there. I saw you. You took the Cup and you lifted the curse off Hodge. He couldn't have done it by himself. He said so."

"You got the Cup," breathed Jasmine.

"Not anymore," said Clary. "Valentine has it."

"Actually, Amir has it," Valentine said. "He's in Idris now. We had to get the Cup to safety. And I did lift Hodge's curse. But I was moved by pity. He seemed so pathetic."

"You didn't feel pity. You didn't feel anything."

"That's enough, Clary!" Jace said angrily. She stared at him. "Don't talk to my father like that."

"He's not your father!"

Jace looked as if she had slapped him. "Why are you so determined not to believe us?"

"Because she loves you," said Valentine.

Jasmine's knees buckled all of a sudden. Her fatigue, Valentine's lies, Jace's ignorance, the dark magic around her—it all became too much. Her temple hit the floor before she could do so much as take a last breath.

 **I had so much fun writing this chapter oh my god. Consider this Part I of the finale. There will probably be two more parts. Maybe one. Stay tuned, and please do leave a review XXX**


	19. Chapter 19

**Here ya go, folks: the finale. IT'S NOT THE LAST CHAPTER THOUGH SO KEEP YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. Lol no one prolly cares. Anyway, I'm so proud of this chapter you have no idea. Enjoyy!**

 _Demons were tearing her apart. Her arms and legs were bloody, bruised and broken. She screamed and screamed and screamed…_

…until she jolted awake, and she realized where she was. Jasmine was back in bed. Not her own bed, but the bed in that god-awful room Valentine had locked her in. There was no one there. She cursed and ran towards the door. _Someone broke the lock_ , she thought, because she didn't even have to turn the doorknob—she just pulled it open.

She was faster than she had been before. She was more balanced, more precise. Lighter on her feet. She didn't feel as weak anymore. And while she knew that the Teroran rune still Marked her arm, it had no effect on her well-being anymore. What a relief.

The halls of the building were silent where she was, until she heard a loud clang of metal, and a shout. "SHUT UP!" It was Jace.

Jasmine followed the direction of his voice, her heart beating like a drum. She threw open the door to some kind of dining room, and saw Valentine driving a dagger through someone's chest. Luke's chest. Luke, already covered in blood, looked at Valentine in astonishment.

"No!" Jasmine shrieked. Everybody in the room turned to look at her, Valentine being the first to recover from his surprise. He drew his knife back, the blade red to the hilt, and knocked Luke's weapon out of his hand. Jasmine cried out Luke's name as he collapsed, and threw herself down in front of him. She shielded him with her own body as Valentine raised a sword over his head.

That man had killed her mother—she wouldn't let him take away her father too. "Jasmine," Luke choked out. She said nothing, just shook her head rapidly and threw her arms around him, doing all she could to protect him from Valentine.

She didn't care if she died saving him. She didn't care if she died at all.

Jasmine held her breath, expecting Valentine's sword to pierce her back, but the pain didn't come. Another clang was heard. Jasmine turned around to see Valentine's hand empty and bleeding. His sword had fallen to the ground.

"Father, I…" began Jace, looking very pale. He had somehow knocked the sword out of his father's hand. Jasmine saw Jace's kindjal lying not too far away, and she figured that that was how he'd done it.

"That was an excellent throw, Jace," said Valentine.

Jace hesitated. "But your hand. I just thought—"

"I would not have hurt your Jasmine, however idiotic she might be," said Valentine, retrieving his sword and the kindjal. "I would have stopped the blow. But your loving concern is commendable."

Jasmine turned to Luke, and saw him lying on his back, his eyes half-closed. Her chest tightened with worry. She couldn't let him die.

As Jace started to walk over to her, Valentine held up a hand. "Do not move, Jonathan," he said firmly.

Clary knelt down on Luke's other side, looking as concerned as Jasmine felt. Jasmine put her hands over Luke's stab wound, reddening her palms with his blood.

"Clarissa, this man is an enemy of our family," said Valentine. "An enemy of the Clave. We are hunters, and that means sometimes we are killers. Surely you understand that."

Jasmine closed her eyes to drown him out. Slowly, she felt her fingertips start to tingle.

"Demon hunters," said Clary. "Demon killers. Not murderers. There's a difference."

"He is a demon, Clarissa," said Valentine. "A monster."

Jasmine's chest filled with rage. "No, he's not!" she shrieked all of a sudden, putting every ounce of fear, hatred and sadness into her voice. She was done with Valentine's lies. Luke was kind. He was intelligible and caring. If anyone was a monster, it would be Valentine himself.

A large hand covered Jasmine's. Luke's hand. Jasmine exhaled in relief. She'd healed him. At least mostly. The glowing of her fingertips died down, and Luke sat up.

"Remarkable," said Valentine, a hungry glint in his eyes.

Clary's eyes were fixed on Valentine's, her lip curled in disgust. "You murdered your wife's parents, not in battle but in cold blood," she said. "And I bet you murdered Michael Wayland and his little boy, too. Threw their bones in with my grandparents' so that my mother would think you and Jace were dead. Put your necklace around Michael Wayland's neck before you burned him so everyone would think those bones were yours. After all your talk about the untainted blood of the Clave—you didn't care at all about their blood or their innocence when you killed them, did you? Slaughtering old people and children in cold blood, that's monstrous."

Another spasm of rage contorted Valentine's features. "That's enough!" he shouted, raising the sword again. "Jonathan! Drag your sister and girlfriend out of my way, or by the Angel, I'll knock them down to kill the monster they're protecting!"

"He's not a monster," said Jasmine. "He's my father."

A look of shock crossed Jace's features. Then, hesitantly, he said, "Certainly, Father," and walked over to her and Clary. He pulled them to their feet, but Jasmine wasn't about to let that happen. She raised her hand and slapped him across the cheek. He let go of her in surprise, and for once, Jasmine didn't mind the hurt look on his face. She hoped that would make him snap out of it.

She ducked under the dining table, where Valentine had kicked Luke's dagger. She seized it and got back up, watching Luke dodge Valentine's every blow with a great swiftness. Just as Valentine raised his sword to drive it toward Luke's heart, Jace knocked him out of the way, faster than Jasmine had ever thought possible for a human—even a Shadowhunter. Valentine's blade sank into the floor.

Jace stepped inbetween Valentine and Luke. "I think you should leave," he said to his father.

Valentine stared incredulously. "What did you say?"

Jace reached for the sword, his hand resting on the hilt. "I think you heard me, Father."

Valentine's voice was as sharp as broken glass. "Jonathan Morgenstern—"

Jace seized the sword quickly, tore it free from the floorboards, and raised it to his father's chin. "That's not my name," said Jace. "My name is Jace Wayland." A slight feeling of relief spread in Jasmine's chest. Relief and pride. That was her Jace talking again.

"WAYLAND?" yelled Valentine. "You have no Wayland blood! Michael Wayland was a stranger to you—"

"So," said Jace calmly, "are you." He jerked the sword to the left. "Now move."

Valentine shook his head. "Never. I will not take orders from a child."

Jace lowered the sword to Valentine's throat. "I am a very well-trained child," Jace said. "You instructed me yourself in the precise art of killing. I only need to move two fingers to cut your throat, did you know that?" His eyes were hard. "I suppose you did."

"You're skilled enough," said Valentine measuredly. "But you could not kill me. You have always been softhearted."

"Perhaps he couldn't," said Luke. "But I could. And I'm not entirely sure he could stop me."

"You hear the monster threatening me, Jonathan," said Valentine. "You side with it?"

"It has a point," said Jace mildly. "I'm not entirely sure I could stop him if he wanted to do you damage. Werewolves heal so fast."

Valentine's features twisted. "So," he spat, "like your mother, you prefer this creature, this half-breed demon thing, to your own blood, your own family?"

Jace, who had been as still as a statue, seemed to be trembling now. "You left me when I was a child," he said. "You let me think you were dead and you sent me away to live with strangers. You never told me I had a mother, a sister. You left me alone!" The word was a shout.

"I did it for you—to keep you safe," Valentine protested.

"Safe from who?" cried Jasmine. "You're the only one endangering him!"

Valentine chuckled wryly. "Like father, like daughter," he said. "Lucian said these exact same words, just minutes ago."

"We need to get the Cup back," said Clary to Jace.

"It's in Idris," Jasmine said. "Valentine said so. It's with my fa—Amir. Amir has it." She turned to Jace, knowing that he could never kill his own father. "Jace, step back. Let Luke handle it."

"I can't do that."

"Yes, you can," said Clary. "Please."

Jasmine edged closer to him. "Give Luke the sword, Jace." After a moment's hesitation, he finally did. Luke held the sword steadily, the tip of the blade touching Valentine's throat.

"If the Cup is in Idris, you used the Portal to bring it there. I'll go with you. Bring it back." Luke's eyes were darting. Sounds of shouting and shattering glass were heard outside the door. "Clary, Jasmine, stay with Jace. After we go through, you use the Portal to take you to a safe place."

"I won't leave here," said Jace.

"Yes, you will."

Something collided with the door. Luke raised his voice. "Valentine, the Portal! Move!"

"Or what?" Valentine asked, looking at the door.

"I'll kill you if you force my hand," Luke said. "In front of your own kids, or not. The Portal, Valentine. Now."

Valentine spread his hands. "If you wish." He stepped back, just as the door exploded inward. Luke moved out of the way to avoid being crushed by the falling door.

A wolf stood in the doorway, snarling dangerously. Jace swore quietly, a seraph blade already in his hand. Clary caught his wrist.

"Don't—he's a friend," she said.

Jace looked irritable, but he lowered his arm anyway.

Just as Valentine reached for the kindjal at his belt, Alaric snarled again, and ran towards Luke, taking the blow of Valentine's dagger. Jace shouted Luke's name, and Jasmine looked away as the wolf crumpled to the floor. She was sure to have nightmares for weeks after—if she'd survive, that was.

Valentine laughed, making Jasmine turn to him with wide, angry eyes. "And this is how you repay the unquestioning loyalty you bought so cheaply, Lucian," he said. "By letting them die for you." He was backing up, still looking at Luke, who lowered his gaze to Alaric. He dropped to his knees, leaning over the wolf.

Jace grabbed Jasmine by the shoulders before she could run over to them. "Stay here, you here me?" he said. "Stay here." He started after Valentine, who was hurrying toward the wall furthest away from them. A mirror covered half of the wall. Jasmine, of course, did not listen. She joined Luke on the ground, aware that Clary was following Jace to Valentine.

"Can you heal him?" Luke asked.

Jasmine gulped. She could barely bring herself to look at the wounded Alaric. "I can try," she said. But her powers, inexplicably, were gone. It was as if she'd used every last drop of it to heal Luke. "I-I can't." She violently pushed her hair out of her eyes. " _Shit._ I'm trying, but he… he's slipping."

It was the first time she'd seen death as it was taking its victim. The first time she'd met it face to face. It was horrible. Sickening. Unfair.

Alaric's eyes closed, and Jasmine sat back, choking on a sob. "I'm sorry," she said, smearing blood on her face as she wiped her eyes—whose blood, she wasn't sure. It could be Luke's, it could be Alaric's, or it could be her own.

Luke placed his hand on Jasmine's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up over this. It won't do any good," he said, his eyes more pained that she'd imagined they would be. She wondered how close Luke and Alaric had been, and then pushed the thought away.

Jasmine glanced at Valentine, who was running his hand along the edge of a mirror's frame. "I have to—"

"Go," said Luke.

Jasmine nodded and got to her feet before hurrying down to the other side of the large room.

"I'll go with him to Idris," Jace was saying. "I'll bring the Cup back."

"No," said Jasmine.

Jace turned to face her. "I told you to stay put," he said.

"Like you ever do what you're told," she shot back, wiping at her eyes once more.

"Weeping for a stranger," Valentine sneered. "Your mother might have done the same thing."

"Shut up," she snapped, before turning to Jace. "You will not go anywhere with _him._ "

"Do you have a better idea?" demanded Jace.

"But Luke—" Clary started, but was cut off by Valentine.

"Lucian," he said, "is attending to a fallen comrade. As for the Cup, and Idris, they are not far. Through the looking glass, one might say."

Jace's eyes narrowed. "The mirror is the Portal?"

Valentine dropped his hand, moving back from the mirror as the image in it swirled and changed like watercolors running in a painting. Instead of the room with its dark wood and candles, now Jasmine could see green fields, the leaves of trees, and a wide meadow sweeping down to a large stone house in the distance.

She felt her chest tighten. "Idris," she breathed. She wasn't sure what drew her to the place, considering she hadn't even grown up there. Perhaps it was the magic of the homeland of all Shadowhunters. The beauty of nature, of some place far away from the city and cars. She could only imagine what it must feel like for Jace.

"I told you it was not far." There was a glint in Valentine's eye. It was then that Jasmine realized how much of a sociopath he was: the thought and feeling of manipulation seemed to make his mouth water. "Is it as you remember it, Jonathan? Has nothing changed?"

"Don't do that to him," Jasmine said, shaking her head. "I won't let you."

"I am giving him a chance to come home," Valentine defended.

Jace's smile—or the ghost of it—faded. "That's not my home," he said. "This is my home now."

Valentine looked at his son with the ugliest kind of hatred Jasmine had ever seen. But she recognized it. Amir had looked at her like that plenty of times. It would send a chill through her every time that he did.

"Very well," said Valentine, and stepped through the Portal. "Ah," he said, "home."

Jace neared the edge of the Portal, before stopping. He looked hesitant.

Jasmine, her throat clenching with pity for Jace, reached out and grabbed his hand. He pulled away, not looking at her.

"Jace, don't," said Clary. "Don't go after him."

"But the Cup," Jace said. He was shaking.

"It's a trick," Jasmine told him. "He's playing you like a puppet." She took his hand again, except this time he didn't pull away. "We'll get the Cup back—I promise."

"Let the Clave get it," said Clary. "If you go through that Portal, you might never come back. Valentine will kill you. You don't want to believe it, but he will."

"Your sister is right." Valentine was standing amid green grass and wildflowers, a triumphant look on his face. "Do you really think you can win this? Though you have a seraph blade and I am unarmed? Not only am I stronger than you, but I doubt you have it in you to kill me. And you will have to kill me, Jonathan, before I'll give the Cup to you."

Jace tightened his grip on his blade. "I can—"

"No, you can't." Valentine reached out, through the Portal, and pulled Jace's wrist forward until the tip of the seraph blade touched his chest. "Do it, then," said Valentine. "Drive the blade in. Three inches—maybe four."

He was torturing Jace. Playing on his emotions. Again, Jasmine realized, Jace was just a boy. It wasn't fair. Valentine was as monstrous as he'd deemed Luke to be.

Jace gave a gasp, jerked his arm back and dropped the blade when he saw that Valentine's chest was bleeding slightly.

"As I thought," said Valentine. "Too softhearted."

Jasmine, her chest heaving angrily, seized the seraph blade and swung it so that it would slice Valentine's head off, but with a sudden movement, Valentine slammed his fist against the invisible barrier between them.

The Portal shattered like glass, the only sounds overpowering the loud noise being Valentine's defying laughter and the sound of a metal blade hitting the floor. Jasmine had thrown the sword down in frustration. She looked away as the remainder of the glass hailed down—looked at Jace. He stood at the empty frame of the mirror, as helpless as Jasmine had ever seen him. She wanted him to cuss, to shout, to be furious. She wanted him angry, not hurt.

"Jace," she said.

"Don't," he told her, kneeling down. He picked up one of the largest shards of glass there was, turning it over in his hands.

"Jace..." she said again, kneeling down next to him.

"Don't call me that." He didn't look at her.

She cocked her head. "Why not? It's your name, isn't it? It's who you are." She stroked his upperarm with the tips of her fingers. This somehow made Jace shut his eyes and turn his face.

"I don't know who I am," he mumbled. Jasmine's lip was torn where she'd bitten it.

"There was nothing you could have done," Clary sighed.

"Yes, there was. I could have killed him." He turned the shard in his hand toward her and Jasmine. "Look." In the glass Idris could be seen. At least a part of it. A tiny piece of Jace's home.

"Are you all right?"

Jasmine looked up to see Luke, standing over them with a look of exhaustion on his face.

"We're fine," said Clary. "Alaric…?"

"Is dead," said Luke.

"My father got away," said Jace. "With the Cup." His voice sounded hollow. "We delivered it right to him. I failed."

Luke put his hands on Jace's head and brushed the glass from his hair in a fatherly manner. He didn't move away from Luke's touch, and said nothing. "It's not your fault," Luke told him, and looked at Jasmine in a way that said: Stay with him. He needs you.

Jasmine smiled tightly and watched him walk away, Clary following in his footsteps.

"It's all right," said Clary in a thin voice. Jasmine fought the urge to scoff—itt wasn't all right, and Clary knew it, but she'd been raised a mundane and mundanes had a tendency to say that kind of stuff. "We have my mom back. We have you and Jasmine. We have everything that matters."

 _Except the Cup_ , Jasmine wanted to say. She didn't.

"He was right. That's why I couldn't make myself go through the Portal," Jace said softly. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him."

"I would have done it for you," said Jasmine firmly. "I would have killed him. I almost did. I should have been quicker, though. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jace said with a frown.

In his other hand, Jace was still holding the piece of broken glass. Clutching it, more like. A tiny drop of blood trickled down his fingers. Jasmine took the shard away from him. He let her. "Remember when we first met," she said, "and you told me to say something in Persian?"

Jace nodded.

Jasmine looked at their joined hands. "I told you: _Vaghti didamet, ghalbam vaysat._ "

"You never told me what it meant," said Jace.

"I said," Jasmine translated with a tender smile, "I said: 'When I saw you, my heart stopped.' It continued beating, of course. I wouldn't be alive now if it hadn't." Jace made a sound like a choked laugh. He pulled her into his arms and tangled his fingers through the back of her hair. She closed her eyes.

"Well, let's be glad it did," said Jace. And then he said her name, and he didn't stop saying it until she put a hand under his chin and kissed his lips.

 **THERE'S ONE CHAPTER LEFT. I REPEAT, ONE CHAPTER LEFT. It's a kind of epilogue-thing, but not really, because I'm continuing the story. Stay tuned for it, and don't forget to review!**


	20. Epilogue

**YOU GUYS THE EPILOGUE I PUT UP EARLIER WAS NOT THE EPILOGUE OH MY FUCK I'M SO SORRY. HERE IT IS THOUGH. ENJOY. FUCK. SORRY...**

 **EPILOGUE**

Luke and Jasmine had had a conversation once Renwick's was cleared out. That conversation kept playing in her head, over and over, even days after Valentine and Amir had left with the Cup.

At the moment, Jasmine was in the training room, hot and sweaty, her hair in a tight ponytail. She was dressed in a pair of black, stretchy shorts and the black tank top she usually wore with her Shadowhunter gear. Panting, she stilled the boxing bag with her hands and packed another punch. The bandages around her knuckles were torn and stained with her own blood, but she was not about to quit.

She continued kicking and punching, until she saw a light smear of blood on the orange fabric of the heavy bag. Eventually, she got herself so out of breath that she had to stop, or at least take a short break. With a cry of frustration, Jasmine dropped to her knees, and then on her back. It was only then that her muscles started aching; not that she cared.

She closed her eyes, remembering her coversation with Luke.

 _"So that's Jace," Luke said. "He's a little more… intense than I'd imagined when you first told me about him."_

 _But that was not what Jasmine wanted to talk to Luke about. "Did you know about me?" she asked, uninterested in whether it was out of the blue or not. "Did you know Darya was pregnant?"_

 _Luke nodded, slowly. "I did," he exhaled. "Darya came to me, six months after I'd fled to Brocelind Forest. I was startled, at first, when I saw her. I had known of her pregnancy before seeing her—Jocelyn had told me. But I hadn't known that she was that far along. And then I was plain afraid—afraid for her safety, afraid for yours. And then, on the day of the Uprising, she went missing, and everybody assumed she'd been either killed or kidnapped. They found her body three, maybe for months later. It was… mutilated beyond recognition, but everybody knew it was her."_

 _Jasmine gulped. "Did you see the body?"_

 _"No," said Luke. He was shaking his head. "No, I was long gone when it—when she was found. I assumed you'd died with her."_

 _"But I didn't," said Jasmine softly._

 _"But you didn't," repeated Luke. "I should have guessed when I first saw you. You don't look a thing like Noella did, and more like Darya than Amir. You even smile like me."_

 _"Your smile?"_

 _"Your dimples. Well, dimple. Singular." He pointed at the right side of her face. Jasmine, almost automatically, raised a hand and touched her cheek._

 _"So," said Jasmine, dropping her hand,"what am I supposed to call you? Dad? Father? Lucian?"_

 _Luke smiled, and Jasmine's gaze immediately fell on his dimple. He was right, she thought. They really did smile alike. "Whatever you're comfortable with," he said. "You can call me Luke to begin with. I haven't gone by Lucian in more than a decade."_

"You alive?" asked Alec, snapping Jasmine out of her thoughts. He hopped in on crutches, Isabelle following in his lead.

"Mostly." She sat up, ignoring her spinning head, and gently nudged one of Alec's crutches with her booted toes. "How ya holding up, Skippy?"

Alec's eyebrows jumped up. "Skippy?"

Jasmine shrugged. "Well, if you get to call me 'Amsterdam', I need to find a nickname for you, too. You're on crutches, so your name will be skippy for as long as you still need them." She still had trouble getting her mind around all that had happened those past two weeks. Alec had been stung by a Greater Demon, for the Angel's sake. Jasmine had only heard about it when they'd gotten back to the Institute after the big fight with Valentine.

"Try again," said Alec dryly. "Maybe you'll come up with a better name."

Jasmine made a face and said, "I'd kick you if you weren't disabled right now."

"Right, I almost forgot how violent you've gotten since that night at Renwick's," said Alec. Jasmine's humor ebbed away. She absently ran her finger over the Teroran rune on her arm, knowing that it had changed her both for the better, and for the worse.

She was faster, stronger; more skilled. But she had these fits of rage—ruthless moments when all she wanted was to punch something. It really was no wonder she spent most of her time in the training room. At night, she'd be so exhausted from kicking and punching all day long that she'd fall asleep in less than a minute. Her body was changing as well, due to the many hours of training she'd done the past couple of days, not counting the one and a half week she'd actively hunted demons with Jace and the Lightwoods. Her arms and legs were more toned, and her face had started to thin out a little, her cheekbones and jaw now showing for the first time in her life.

The rune didn't look as vibrant as it had before, and the skin around it had healed, but it was still there. She felt it every time she Marked herself with an _iratze_ , or any other rune from the Gray Book. It would burn more than usual, and her stomach would roil. It was as if the collision between seraphic and demonic energies was too much for her body to take.

Determined to finish the last hour of her mentally scheduled training, she jumped to her feet, in a swifter motion than she was used to from herself. It was still bizarre to her how she could move as fast as Jace. Speaking of the blonde… "Has either of you seen Jace?" she asked.

Isabelle and Alec exchanged a glance.

"That's what we came here for," said Isabelle. "We haven't seen him in a couple hours, and we thought you might know where he is."

Jasmine cocked an eyebrow. "How come?"

"Because you're the only person he doesn't seem to be avoiding," Isabelle said.

"Why would he be avoiding you?" asked Jasmine gently. "You're his family."

"Technically, Clary is his family," Isabelle said. "God, can you believe it? I mean, I never would have guessed that they were siblings." She didn't sound like she was expecting an answer, so Jasmine didn't offer one. She raised the hem of her thermal tank top and used the absorbant fabric to wipe the sweat off her upperlip. "Well, look who's getting abs?" Isabelle teased. "You were sort of pudgy when you first got here."

"Yeah, just try not to get too buff," said Alec. "Or you'll look like a man. You really couldn't use that."

Jasmine laughed, because she'd grown used to—and slightly fond of—the Lightwoods' way of talking to her. Two weeks ago, Jasmine thought, she would have been offended, or even hurt, by a comment like this. But things were different now. She felt more comfortable in her skin; more secure. "You two really don't know how to give a compliment," she said, shaking her head.

Isabelle peered at the punching bag and scrunched up her face. "Ugh, is that blood?"

"Yes."

"I think you might be more of a fighting enthusiast than Jace, if that's even possible," said Alec.

Jasmine snorted. "It isn't," she said. "He hasn't been acting like himself lately, has he?"

"He tries," said Alec. "But he's not the same. His jokes are sharp instead of witty, and his smile is always forced."

"Except when he's around Jaz," said Isabelle absently. Alec's eyes seemed to darken.

"Yeah, except when he's around Jasmine," he mumbled.

"He's so much better when you're around," Isabelle told her, as though she was only just realizing it.

Jasmine smiled a little. "You think so?"

Isabelle nodded. "He is, actually. Less sharp-edged, somehow. It's not so much that he's kinder, but that he lets you see the kindness in him."

Seeing Alec's bitter look, Jasmine clapped her hands. "Alright, I'm done standing around," she said. "Does anyone want to join me in my last hour of training?"

Alec waved a crutch. "Can't."

Jasmine snorted. "Of course." She turned to Isabelle. "Izzy? You up for a sp—"

"Ha! Hell no! I just did my hair. Can't you tell?" She waved it around like a flag.

Jasmine squinted. "It's… slightly wavier?" she guessed. Isabelle looked upset, but that only made Jasmine grin. "Anyway, if you guys aren't interested in seeing me sweaty and out of breath, I'd suggest you to leave."

"Done," said Alec quickly, hopping out on his crutches. Even though he was partly handicapped, he was still remarkably fast.

Isabelle looked back at Jasmine. "I know who'd be interested in seeing you sweaty and out of breath," she said with a slow grin. "It starts with a J and ends with 'hotforyou'."

"Isabelle," Jasmine warned, but she was grinning as well. "Do _not._ "

Isabelle walked out with a laugh, and only returned a few minutes later to tell Jasmine that she'd found Jace sitting up in the greenhouse. "Might I suggest a shower, some mascara and a bandaid before you go and see him?" said Isabelle.

Jasmine looked down at herself, and saw that she had scrapes and bruises all over. "One bandaid?" she joked.

"Maybe seven."

She gave Isabelle a thumbs-up, and rolled her shoulders back for a last round of punches.

When she was done, she took a shower, applied some makeup, fishtail-braided her hair, and dressed in a floor-length, emerald green skirt and a floral pink-purple-and-white halter top. Jace was still up in the greenhouse when Jasmine went up to see him. He was sitting on the marble bench in the middle of the greenhouse, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His head was bent, and he was holding an object in his hands. She had to dodge a couple of branches to get to him.

"Jaz," he said, closing his hand around the object.

"Hey, stranger," she said before scrunching her face up. "God, that sounds lame. I heard someone say it in a mundane TV show, once. It wasn't terrible... Maybe a little too dramatic. _Degrassi,_ was it?"

Jace's eyebrows went up. "Are you asking me?"

Jasmine shrugged and said, "Anyway, how are you doing?" She sat down next to him and smoothed her skirt out over her knees.

"Fine."

"You sure?" she asked.

Jace nodded. "The Lightwoods will be back in a couple of days," he said. "Did you know that?"

"Yeah, Izzy told me," said Jasmine, her hands folded in her lap. "And now that I know I'm not really related to Maryse, I'm not sure how she'll react to me. Especially since Isabelle and I are still planning on becoming _parabatai._ "

"You are?"

"Yeah. Isabelle really likes me for some reason," she said with a shrug. "I don't see why, but she does."

"I see why."

Jasmine chuckled. "That wasn't me being insecure," she said. "That was me wondering how somebody like Isabelle could want to be friends with someone like me. We're total opposites."

"So are we," said Jace. "And we still connect."

"We're more alike than you might think," said Jasmine. "For one, we were both raised by evil men."

"Have you talked to Luke recently?" asked Jace.

Jasmine shook her head. "Not after the talk we had at Renwick's. He's always at the hospital," she said. "Jocelyn still hasn't woken up, and I don't want to intrude on their time together. It doesn't feel right to just drop by."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Jace muttered.

Jasmine gingerly laid her head on his shoulder. "She wanted to name me Adrina," she said. "My mother, I mean. Luke told me that."

"It's nice," said Jace, touching the side of her face.

"Yeah. I'm not going to change my name or anything," she said. "But I think that if I ever have a daughter, I'll call her that."

Jace said nothing. He just put an arm across her shoulders, pulling her even closer than she already was.

"This might ruin the moment," said Jasmine, "but I have something to tell you."

"You're pregnant already? I barely even touched you."

Jasmine looked up at him with raised eyebrows and hot cheeks. " _Jace,_ " she chided. "Don't."

"What did you want to say to me?" asked Jace with a grin.

"I've been thinking," she said. "About my mother, and about my family. Idris. What if I left for a while?" She spoke slowly. "Not for long. Maybe a week or two. I want to talk to my uncles and grandmother. Get to know my mother through them. I could see where she grew up; the room she used to sleep in."

"If that's what your heart tells you to do," said Jace, "then I say go for it."

"Really? You won't mind?"

"I can't tell you what to do, Jasmine."

She frowned. "No, but you can still give me your thoughts," she said. "I want to hear them."

Jace paused. "I think it's a good idea," he said finally.

Jasmine nodded. "Yeah, I think so too," she said. "And if I see Valentine, I'll kick his ass for you, alright?" Jace snorted a laugh, but said nothing. "Hey." Jasmine put a hand under his chin, and he looked at her. "I'm really proud of you for not giving in to him at Renwick's."

"When I looked through the Portal and saw Idris, I knew exactly what Valentine was trying to do, that he wanted to see if I'd break. And it didn't matter—I still wanted to go home more badly than I could have imagined," he said.

"I don't understand," said Jasmine. "I'm trying, but I just—why would you want to go back? I can understand that Idris was your childhood, but Amsterdam was mine. I love the city, I really do, but I would not want to go back to Amir."

"I was happy in Idris. It was the only place I was ever happy like that," said Jace.

"You were happy?" asked Jasmine. "Valentine must have been as terrible of a father as Amir, if not worse."

"It was the only time I ever felt sure about who I was. Where I belonged. It sounds stupid, but…" He shrugged. "I kill demons because it's what I'm good at and what I was taught to do, but it isn't who I am. And I'm partly good at it because after I thought my father had died, I was—cut free. No consequences. No one to grieve. No one who had a stake in my life because they'd been part of giving it to me." His eyes were steely. "I don't feel that way anymore."

"Well, thank God," said Jasmine half-heartedly. "We can't have you running around with suicidal thoughts."

"I wouldn't say I was suicidal. I just didn't care if I died or not," he said. "It's different now. I want to stay alive. I want to stay alive for you. You're like—my backbone. You give me the strength keep me going. If it weren't for you, I would have gone with my father through the Portal. If it weren't for you, I would go after him right now."

Jasmine's eyebrows curved up. "I think I'm gonna cry."

He nudged her with his shoulder. "Don't go all soft on me now," he said.

"I've always been soft. Like Church's fur, except you're not going to get scratched if you touch me." She burst out laughing. "Oh, I crack myself up."

Jace chuckled with his eyes closed. "So stupid…" he mumbled. Jasmine kissed his cheek, and got up. He glanced up curiously. "Where are you going?"

"To the library. I'm writing my family a letter," she said.

"In Persian?"

"Yes. I haven't written anything in Persian in a while, so this should be interesting. Want to come?"

"Sure, but I don't think I'll be very helpful," he said, getting to his feet. "My Persian is very limited. In fact, the only thing I know how to say is _'safar bikhatar'_ , which roughly translates to 'have a safe trip'."

Jasmine couldn't help but laugh. "Who taught you that?"

"I can't even remember."

"Well, how about I teach you two of my favorite words?" said Jasmine. "Can you say ' _dooset daram?'"_

Jace's eyebrows crinkled curiously. " _Dooset daram._ "

She swallowed the dry feeling in her throat, and nodded. "Beautiful," she said.

"What did I just say?"

She stood on her toes, threw an arm around Jace's neck, and kissed him. "Telling you would spoil it," she said. "You'll find out what it means soon enough."

 **End of Heaven's Hands**


	21. Nigrum Lux (The sequel)

**Thank you guys for following this story up until now! Heaven's Hands will forever be the first 'book' I've finished, and therefore—my baby. I have written the first chapter for the sequel of this book, which it is called Nigrum Lux (a pretty good title, if I do say so myself ;D). I'll have it up by tomorrow, so don't forget to check my FF account.**

 **Heaven's Hands is OFFICIALLYcompleted ^_^**


	22. Sequel link!

**Just in case you haven't noticed yet, the first chapter of Nigrum Lux is up!**

 **s/11595806/1/Nigrum-Lux**


	23. Epilogue clarification

**Okay, so just so we're clear. I uploaded the epilogue a few weeks ago, and it was actually the chapter for Nigrum Lux. So would you all do me a favour and read the epilogue again? Because I feel terrible that I spoiled Nigrum Lux and never put up the actual epilogue...**

 **Please, go back and read it :(**


End file.
